#let my three-eyed killer theory be true | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vancampemily · 3 years

Text

Emily VanCamp On Reprising Her Role As Sharon Carter And Those Power Broker Theories

Sharon Carter’s dark, bitter, and vengeful return in ‘The Falcon and the Winter Soldier’ could mean many things—or nothing at all.

You’re always one decision away from a totally different life, and that rule applies doubly in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. A simple choice in the heat of the moment can have grave consequences for our beloved heroes; Peter Quill punching Thanos just as Iron Man and Spider-Man almost pull the Infinity gauntlet off the villain’s hand is a hotly debated Twitter topic every other week. The current Marvel conflict on everyone’s tongue? Why on Earth is Sharon Carter (Emily VanCamp) an enemy of the state, when the Avenger who got her in this mess in the first place is roaming his past life worry-free?

Last we saw Sharon, she was the wide-eyed, determined Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. and a CIA operative whose loyalty to Steve Rogers/Captain America (Chris Evans) prompted her to defy the Sokovia Accords and steal Cap’s shield and Falcon’s wings from the government. Her allegiance to Steve landed her a kiss from the Avenger but not without controversy: Sharon is the grandniece of Peggy Carter, Steve’s true love and the woman he traveled back in time to be with at the end of Endgame. Sharon’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it romance with Steve was just as short-lived as her residence in the MCU timeline, but thanks to the newest Disney+ series, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sharon gets a second life—just not the one the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent envisioned.

When we meet Sharon in episode 3, titled “Power Broker,” the glow of the woman who longed to live up to her grand-aunt’s accomplishments is eclipsed by a dark cloud. She’s traded in her button-up shirts for hoodies and operates as an art thief out of a sprawling mansion in the eerie fictional town of Madripoor. She hasn’t spoken to her family members in months. When Sam reminds her he was also on the run, she reminds him, “Was. Is. Big difference.” She’s cynical, bitter, and vengeful, which apparently turned her into a stone-cold killer. She murders three bounty hunters with a steel bar and darts a knife into the shoulder of another. Sharon Carter is long gone, her one driving force the desire to be pardoned. Who is this new person? Well, Marvel devotees have their theories. Ahead, Emily VanCamp talks reprising her role as Sharon Carter, those Power Broker theories, and more.

Let’s go back to your Marvel introduction. What qualities initially drew you to the character of Sharon Carter?

I loved her dedication and devotion to Cap [and] to the cause. She was in this bloodline of agents, and this kick-ass woman who was a little bit more idealistic at the time. Now some of those qualities have been stripped away, unfortunately, based on her circumstances and the sacrifices she made. She’s wondering whether or not it was all worth it. She feels abandoned.

Knowing what she knows now, especially with Cap out of the MCU timeline, do you think Sharon would have made a different choice in Civil War?

I don’t think so. One of the things I love about her is her integrity. And to her, that’s what she believed in and that’s what she thought was the right thing to do. So I think it’s less about Steve and more about her devotion to the cause at that time. No, I don’t think she would go back and do anything differently. Do I think that the character would have liked a little bit of help, with all these other characters being pardoned, and she’s just sort of been left on the run as this fugitive? Yeah, I think her reaction to it would have changed. But I don't think she would have changed her choices.

At the end of Avengers: Endgame, Sam and Bucky were able to get closure from Captain America. Do you ever wonder what closure would look like for Sharon, had she had the opportunity?

I’m sure she would have wanted that, but I think that she's moved on from that. Now she just wants to be pardoned to get her life back. That ship has sailed in so many ways for Sharon, and we don't even really address [Steve and her] in the show. It’s so much more about where she is now and how to move forward and make that deal with Sam: Listen, I’ll help you out if you can get me out of here. [Sam and Bucky] are on this mission and she's reluctantly helping them, and that’s what the dynamic is now. Does she want to? Probably not. But is it her ticket out? Probably.

What did you have to understand about her mindset now in order to play her in this new phase?

I think it was just important for me, one, that we address all this time that’s passed and kind of discuss, “Where has she been? What has she been doing?” And we talk about it a little bit in episode 3, that she’s been hustling and dealing in stolen art and living in Madripoor. You get the sense that things have not been easy on Sharon. And she’s definitely made her way and she’s thrived in this environment, but it’s not an environment she would have chosen. She was sort of, in her mind, left behind, so there’s a chip on her shoulder that I think it would be really hard to get rid of at this point. And she even says at one point, “The superhero thing is a joke.” She’s definitely lost that kind of idealistic, young agent mind.

How did you prepare for that change in her?

I think it’s great to dig a little bit deeper into all these characters and their perspectives. And with Sharon, it’s so much about her resentment and her tenacity. She’s thrived in this new environment, even though it’s not ideal. So that’s something that’s carried through in her personality. She didn’t lose that. But I think just her goals, her thoughts have just changed.

What is a Marvel training session like? Sharon killed so many bounty hunters by herself.

It was months of prepping even for that sequence in episode 3. Sharon doesn’t have superpowers, so everything is just with her bare hands. We wanted it to look as gritty and raw and real as possible, so we trained a lot. Every day that I wasn’t shooting Falcon or The Resident, I was in that training center going over choreography, doing the footwork, doing boxing, doing jujitsu, all the things that I need to do to prep my body and mind for those sequences. You hope that when you get there to shoot it, that muscle memory and that adrenaline kicks in, and off you go. But Marvel is amazing at preparing you for those moments. I was welcomed to go and train every moment I could, and I did. But to have that available is just such a gift, especially when you've got a sequence like that, where you can't really hide from anything. It’s just you.

Sharon’s dark return reminded me of your Revenge character Emily Thorne. Do you prefer these darker roles over characters like Nicolette in the soapy drama The Resident?

They’re all so different. I think that’s part of what I like—just embodying totally different characters. Revisiting Sharon was very cool because we get to see her, as you said, in this totally different light. I don’t have any sort of preference. It was definitely difficult because last year I was doing Falcon and Winter Soldier and The Resident at the same time, so sometimes getting home at night I was a little bit screwy in my brain as to where I was headed the next day and what mind frame I should be in. But it’s not to say I enjoy playing one more than the other. It was fun to get back to Sharon, though, and see this new, kind of hardened version of her.

What was it like shooting both The Resident and Falcon in the middle of a pandemic?

Even before the pandemic, it was hard because it’s two different characters, one of them being very, very physical, so even that in itself was a challenge. Then the pandemic happened, and luckily I didn’t have to do both at the same time. We only had about a month left on Falcon and Winter Soldier, and I finished that up and then went straight into The Resident. It was nerve-racking going back to work after months of being isolated and at home, but also really nice to have a sense of normalcy. Even though it’s not normal at all on set anymore, it’s nice to be around my colleagues, to be at work. We’re kind of lucky to be able to do that and just to deliver new content. Everyone’s streaming everything Marvel. It's made our jobs a little bit more challenging, but also more rewarding in many ways because we’re able to deliver that joy.

When you pay close attention to Falcon’s episode titles, they’ve been very descriptive of each episode. So when the third episode was titled “Power Broker” and we see Sharon return, Marvel theorists ran with it.

We see Sharon return. We see Zemo return. It’s kind of like, yeah, episode 3 was always a big blast of so many things. There’s a ton of theories going around.

Have you ever envisioned Sharon going to the dark side, going against the heroes? What do you make of those theories?

Sharon’s always been this kind of idealistic personality, but I also think there are so many gray areas now between heroes and villains, and that’s something these Marvel shows are really exploring more in-depth. I think anyone at this point is capable of anything. There are so many characters that haven't even appeared yet. There's a lot going on in these six episodes. So for me, I don’t want to say too much because there’s just so much more to come.

source

#emily vancamp #sharon carter #the falcon and the winter soldier #the resident #revenge #interview #*

15 notes · View notes

sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

Betrayal (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Partially inspired by 8x4 God Complex. Aundreya finally figures out who Spencer has been calling on the payphone. Story ten.

Category: Fluff at the beginning, then angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Normal CM stuff. Mentions of drugs. An internal identity crisis.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Please welcome Tara Lewis everyone. I know that she was never a part of this particular team, but she now has a guest appearance because I wanted her to have one.

“You have zero manners,” Morgan said.

“That is not true!” I snapped back.

“Yes. It is. You literally inhale your food in under ten seconds and just now you walked in here and basically yelled ‘I’m back, baby’ to the entire bullpen,” he pointed out.

“Okay, sure, but that doesn’t mean I lack all manners completely. I just have unconventional ones,” I countered.

“Unconventional?” Prentiss snorted. “You are one of the most uncivilized people I have ever met.”

“Fuck you, I’m civilized!” I said, flabbergasted. They both just stared at me with a knowing look and I wanted to hit myself. I slowly nodded my head, and clicked my tongue. “Yeah. I hear it now.”

Morgan gave a single laugh shaking his head and Prentiss just rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Ah, who cares? At least you keep things interesting,” a voice behind me said. I turned around to see a tall, gorgeous woman I didn’t recognize standing behind me.

Prentiss jumped up and hugged her, “Tara! It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you could join us for this case.”

“I’m happy to be here,” she said.

“Derek Morgan,” he introduced, holding his hand out. She shook it and then turned to me.

“Aundreya Chambers.”

“I know,” Tara said, extending her hand. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered, but I just brushed it off.

I was about to reach for her hand when Morgan interrupted, “Woah, woah, woah. You might not want to do that.”

I turned to glare at him, knowing he was going to make some dumbass joke about me ‘rubbing off on people’. But then I decided I’d not only go along with it, but I’d take control of it.

“Wait, why?” Tara asked, hand still floating in mid air.

“It’s because I have a highly contagious, chronic disease. I hope you have all of your vaccines,” I said before Morgan could jump in. He gave me a wide-eyed look, but shortly after, I saw him suppress a smile.

“Oh, really?” Tara’s expression was a mix between confusion and worry.

“Yeah, I’ve been battling it for pretty much my entire life. It’s gotten worse over these past couple of years, though,” I said. Emily frowned at me, but Derek was definitely enjoying himself.

“What disease?”

“It’s uh … It’s called uh,” I started, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall the word. “Derek, what’s it called?”

“Being a bitch?” he offered, eyebrows raised.

“Ah! That’s the one!” I said, pointing my finger over at him like I’d just had a revelation. I winked at him and he couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.

Tara started laughing, but then quickly composed herself. “That sounds really serious, I’m so sorry to hear that. How are you doing?”

“You know, I manage,” I said, smiling at her.

She nodded, returning my smile. “Well, I actually lived with someone fighting that very same disease, so I’ve built up the antibodies. I don’t think one handshake will hurt.”

“Few. That’s a relief,” I said, finally shaking her hand.

“You will have to excuse her and her occasional antics,” JJ said walking by.

Spencer was right behind her, gesturing toward Morgan. “Yeah, and his. He’s not much better.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Morgan was quick to defend.

“Sure it is,” Emily said sarcastically.

Rossi walked into the room, already knowing that we were being unprofessional. “Guys, behave. Agent Lewis, I apologize for anything they may have already said or done.” He looked pointedly at Morgan and I. We both put our hands up in defense.

Tara still had a smile plastered on her face. “Don’t worry. I already like your team. I’m going to have no problem working with you all on this case.”

“And we already like you,” I told her. “I’m glad you have a good sense of humor.”

“What can I say? I enjoy trying to keep the mood as light as possible. Gotta have some sort of balance working a job like this,” she said. We all nodded profusely at her words.

When we arrived at the round table, Hotch was already there.

“So I see you’ve met Doctor Lewis,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Ooh. Doctor. Be careful Spencer, she’s coming for your title,” I joked.

“Oh, no! Definitely not. Under no circumstances do I want to compete against the genius,” she quickly corrected. Reid just shyly smiled.

“I think you should at least try and give him a run for his money,” I entertained.

“Aundreya?” Aaron intervened.

“Yeah?”

“Focus.”

“What is it with you people today, coming at me like this,” I let my hands slap against my thighs.

“Aundreya.”

“Yes, okay, I’m focused, god.”

He gave me that signature stone face and I gestured for him to continue. I saw Derek smirk out of the corner of my eye, so I swiftly made eye contact with him, scratching my temple with only my middle finger. He blew air out of his nose in a small laugh.

“We are going to be flying to Phoenix to revisit the Ken Keith case. As you all know, he was one of Phoenix’s most prolific serial killers and at some point we thought he had a partner, but the killings stopped after he was incarcerated, so we figured we had it wrong. Last night, there was another killing that partially matched Keith’s MO and signature,” Aaron explained.

“Partially matched?” Prentiss asked.

“When the body was found, they had all of their limbs, except their leg had been amputated and replaced.”

“Okay, so a copycat?” JJ asked.

“That’s what the local PD initially thought, but the victim had traces of tomato soup in her stomach, a ritual that was never released to the public,” Hotch said. “Doctor Lewis will be aiding us in speaking with Keith considering that is her area of expertise.”

I leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with that.”

“I always do,” Tara replied.

“If this partner is anything like Keith, we need to catch him as quickly as possible. Wheels up in 30.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Ken Keith is what you would call a mad scientist. He spent five years amputating one of his victim’s legs, and then trying to replace it with someone else’s. When it didn’t work, he would cut off all of their limbs and dump their torso with their head. We never knew what he did with the rest of the limbs. After he got arrested, he refused to tell us why he did any of it. Hopefully Tara could change that, but if not, the rest of us basically started over with the profile.

On the plane after we had already discussed all of the information we had, I saw Rossi fumbling around with a Rubik’s cube.

“I didn’t take you for a Rubik’s cube person,” I commented.

He set the cube down in front of him with a frustrated sigh. “That’s because I’m not. I had an old friend give me this, challenging me to figure out how to solve it before he could. As you can see, it is not working out so well for me.”

I laughed. “I can help you.”

“You know how to solve a Rubik’s cube?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I have a variety of odd skills.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, relinquishing the cube to me. “Have at it.”

Within the next thirty or so seconds, I set the cube back down, completely solved.

“I have to say I’m impressed,” Rossi admitted, picking up the cube to evaluate it, “I don’t know how you do that.”

“It’s really just all math,” Reid said, sitting down next to us, “See, there are a variety of algorithms that are used at various steps in the process, and many people have come up with numerous different ways that work. For example, there is one that solves for the entire first and second layer, then moves on to completing the top before the corners, and then there are others that do the reverse, completing the corners before the top.”

Rossi just stared at him, and if I had to guess what was going through his head, it was somewhere between ‘I have no idea what the hell you just said’ and ‘I’m not quite sure I care’.

“In other words, there are patterns you can learn that will help you solve it. We can teach you, if you want,” I offered.

“I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up,” Rossi said. He slid the cube back over mine and Reid’s way.

Reid scooped it up and started fidgeting with it. “I didn’t know you could solve a Rubik’s cube.”

“I can. Not only that, but I can solve a two-by-two, and a four-by-four,” I said, content with my answer.

He looked at me with furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tara. “Prove it.”

I looked up at her. “Gladly. When we get back, I will show off my cube-solving skills.”

She smiled, “I look forward to it.”

“Or she can just prove it now,” Spencer said, retrieving three cubes from his bag.

“Of course you would have those in your bag,” I chuckled. “Go ahead, then. Mix them up for me.”

“Okay, now I have to get in on the action,” Morgan said, reaching over Reid from the seat behind him and grabbing the biggest cube. I rolled my eyes.

Once the three of them thought that the cubes were sufficiently mixed up, I started solving. I solved the two-by-two first, then the three-by-three, then the four-by-four. I set them down in a row next to each other.

“I’ll be damned,” Morgan said, shaking his head.

“What? Did you ever doubt me?” I feigned offense.

“Definitely not,” he said with a wink.

“Well, it looks to me that you are now the one giving the genius a run for his money,” Tara said.

I scoffed. “Nope. I’m sure he could still kick my ass.”

“Willing to test that theory?” Derek asked.

“Absolutely,” I said, looking at Spencer expectantly.

“Sure.”

Tara messed up one of the three-by-three cubes for me, and Derek messed up the other for Spencer.

“Okay, I want you both to start at the same time when I say go,” Tara said. She teased us, making us wait on the edge of our seats in silence before finally saying, “Go.”

We both started solving and according to the lovely commentary provided by Derek, I was in the lead. Soon though, too soon, that started to change.

“Oh no. He’s catching up,” I said.

“How do you know that? You haven’t taken your eyes off of your own,” Emily asked. To her point, I hadn’t even realized she was there.

“I can hear it.”

“You can he-” Morgan started, cutting himself off. “Of course you can. Naturally.”

A few seconds later, I put my cube down, just moments before Spencer put his down.

“That’s unbelievable,” Rossi teased. He was resting his chin on his hand, an amused smirk on his face as he watched Spencer and I compete. All he was missing was a bowl of popcorn.

“I almost had you!” Reid exclaimed.

“You’re outta practice. Maybe next time, champ,” I said, patting his shoulder.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Three days into our investigation, we had a possible partner’s name and body language confirmation from Keith. Garcia sent us his work and home addresses like the lovely queen she is, and we split up into two groups. Spencer, Emily, Rossi, and myself went to his work address while Hotch, Morgan, JJ, and Tara went to his home address.

“Can I help you?” asked a tall, black haired man.

“Yes, we are looking for Caleb Wheelan,” Prentiss said, holding out her badge.

“He’s not in today,” the man responded. “Is there a problem?”

“We just need to ask him a few questions. Do you know where he would be?”

“I’d assume at his house because he called in sick this morning,” the man told us.

We asked him a variety of other questions about his co-worker and even searched his cubicle and computer and found nothing.

“Thank you. Please give us a call if he turns up,” Prentiss concluded, handing the man her business card. The man nodded and we walked away, Reid already on the phone with Aaron.

“He wasn’t at his house, but there is nothing there that points to him being our unsub,” he said once he got off the phone.

“Okay, so we keep digging, and hopefully we’ll be able to find him and ask him some questions,” Rossi said, and we headed back to the precinct.

The next day, Caleb Wheelan called us.

“I just got off the phone with Wheelan, and he claims that he knew Keith before he had his psychotic break. They worked together and Keith tried to rope Wheelan into his experiments, but once Wheelan realized what was actually going on, he backed out,” Emily said, walking into the conference room.

“Do you believe him?” I asked.

“Yeah. The rest of the details he gave me, the fact that we found nothing at his home or work, and he only fits portions of the profile, suggest that he’s telling the truth,” Emily stated.

“Okay, great. What now?” JJ asked.

“Now we revisit the profile. Lewis is still having trouble getting Keith to tell us anything, so we should start coming up with ideas as to why he did this, and why this new unsub hasn’t escalated as much as Keith, only removing their leg not the rest of their limbs,” Hotch said.

We didn’t have much time to brainstorm because the deputy came in, informing us that there was another body.

We raced to the crime scene, a small, trashed alley, immediately noticing the change in MO.

“The victim’s name is Maria Rodriguez,” Morgan said.

“First time he’s operated on a woman,” Reid pointed out.

“And he transplanted the left leg this time,” Morgan said.

“She died from blood loss, there’s no gangrene on the transplanted leg which means the surgery’s fresh.”

“You think he still has the other woman?”

“It justifies his haste in dumping her here. Why didn’t he go to the desert or a hospital?” Spencer’s voice slowed on the last word, realization taking over his face.

“It also means he’s speeding up his surgeries,” Derek deduced. Without another word, Spencer walked away from us, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Reid, where are you going?”

When he didn’t answer I called after him, “Reid!”

I turned back to look at Morgan, puzzled.

He shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s going on with him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been trying to ask him about it, but I keep getting a bunch of nothing.”

“You don’t think he’s back on drugs do you?”

“No. This is a whole different kind of strange,” I said. Derek just sighed and turned his attention back to the victim.

I glanced back at Spencer right as he hung up, making eye contact with me for only a second before turning away. “Tara! Lewis, wait. Where are you going?”

This caught Derek’s attention and he looked back over to where Reid was now jogging toward Lewis.

“Hotch called. He wants us back at the station ASAP,” Tara said. I checked my own phone, realizing I had just received a text as well.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main? It’s on the way,” Spencer asked.

What the hell?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tara started wearily. “What’s at 5th and Main?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“I need to talk to somebody,” Reid said, walking around to open the passenger-side door before any one of us could protest. Derek and I looked at Lewis, eyes wide, but she just shrugged.

“Oh, okay, sure.”

Not even concerned with personal privacy, I called Garcia.

“Hey Queen P. What’s at 5th and Main?”

“It’s a payphone. I don’t know why he asked for it either,” she responded.

A payphone? So he is back on drugs?

“Okay, thanks, girl,” I said, hanging up.

Derek and I got into the car and drove back to the precinct. The nice thing was that Spencer was right: 5th and Main was on the way. Once we got there, I decided I’d take a ‘bathroom break’. When I was out of sight of the rest of the team, I hauled ass to 5th and Main. I didn’t want to take any chances in case he was going to meet another dealer, considering how well that ended last time.

When I got there, I easily spotted him. I crept up the side of brick building just behind the payphone, getting as close as I could without being seen.

“Yes, thank you, exactly! That’s not an accident. He’s obviously using it as a cover to screen for something and that’s why I’m calling you. I’m hoping that you can help me figure out what he’s screening for,” I heard Spencer say.

What? Why is he discussing the case with this person? Clearly he’s comfortable with them because of how he’s addressing them.

My mind was racing.

“Yeah we worked doubling into the profile … I don’t know, actually … So you think this guy’s pursuing his own impossible cause …”

Who is this person? Who’s smart enough that Spencer’s going to them for help on a case? Not to mention close enough to him?

“Before he transplants, he turns them into amputees. That’s part of his experiment. What if there’s a condition the victim shares, something involving amputation?” he asked.

He’s calling them from a payphone like he did with his dealer, but this person isn’t a dealer. Could this be that friend I never followed up on that was being threatened?

“Unless it’s congenital, something that caused the amputation in utero?” A pause. “Exactly. So I guess the question is, what else causes birth defects?”

Okay, focus. He’s been calling someone on a payphone for at least a month, that I know of, so probably a bit longer. He has a secret friend that he really wants to protect. He was acting weird around Derek and I earlier tonight and asked Tara, the temporary member, to drive him instead of one of us. He’s showing no signs of relapse drug abuse.

I was racking my brain, trying to make sense of all of this.

Wait. If he’s calling this person on payphones, was he calling them right before we went to meet his dealer?

“What if we focused on what causes limb deformities specifically?” he asked.

This person is knowledgeable in the medical field. Surgeon, nurse, pediatrics, geneticist, epidemiologist, immunologist, infectious disease specialist…

“But there are a lot of different strains of herpes. You know, chicken pox, for instance. If a mother isn’t inoculated and she passes the virus in utero, can’t that cause birth defects?”

He’s literally solving this case with whoever the hell this is and the rest of us aren’t even included. He‘s talking with such passion and intrigue, his mind and mouth moving a million miles an hour, something he usually only did when he was bouncing ideas off of me or talking with me on the jet.

I checked my watch.

Shit. I’ve been out for five minutes.

I had to get back to the precinct and soon. The team was going to ask questions, and I couldn’t risk Reid getting back before me. I couldn’t wait to hear what else he had to say, quickly moving away from the side of the building, bursting into a full on sprint. I reached the precinct doors, somewhat out of breath, knowing the pink tint on my face was going to betray me.

I entered the conference room as casually as possible. Luckily, they were all deep in thought, wondering what we’d missed. I would’ve loved to jump in and offer what little information I heard from a one-sided phone call, but I knew I wouldn’t be helpful and all it would do would just let them know that I was eavesdropping. We’d just have to wait until Spencer got back.

When he did, he had the key information that we needed to narrow down our search. Apparently, we were looking for a man who married a woman that had limb deformities caused by chicken pox. The only one that showed up in Garcia’s search was a John Nelson. Rossi, JJ, and Reid headed over to his house to bring him in for questioning.

“What was that about?” Emily wondered aloud.

“I’d love to know,” I agreed.

“No, not that. Well yes, that, but I was more wondering about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah. Is everything okay? You look stressed,” she pointed out.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I replied.

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m good, I promise.”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes,” she said with a quick eyebrow raise.

“Will do,” I said. We both knew that was a lie.

Part 2

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

@kris-stuff

@wooya1224

15 notes · View notes

thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 5)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2535

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A long moment passed before he said anything.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said with a bit of a chuckle.

You pushed past him as you said, “Cut the shit, Dexter. We both know the truth. Now shut that door, I don’t think your neighbors want to hear any of this conversation we’re about to have.”

He shut the door immediately and stared at you, his hands in his pockets.

“What are you talking about? I work--”

“You work for Miami PD. Yes, I know. I know a lot about you. Like how right now you’re weighing whether or not to kill me, or otherwise dispose of me to save your ass, let me save you the trouble though.”

He still made no move.

You let out a soft sigh. “Dexter, relax, I’m not here to arrest you.”

His eyes darted from side to side in confusion. “You’re not?”

“No, and I’m not wearing a wire. This is probably going to sound crazy and hard to believe, and I can hardly believe I’m about to say it but… I want you to teach me,” you informed, gathering all of your courage.

“Teach you?” He frowned, turning his head slightly, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“I want you to teach me how to be a serial killer, and get away with it.”

A choked laugh escaped him. “Look I don’t know who you think I might be or what led you to this conclusion but--”

“Dexter… Please,” you begged. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I’m serious. I’ll strip down to my bra and panties to show you I’m not wearing a wire. Check my bag. You’ll find my FBI issued gun on my hip, I won’t hide that.”

He looked you up and down for a long time before slowly walking forward towards you.

“If this is true… if you’re serious… why? Why would you want a serial killer to teach you this? You took an oath to uphold the law. Why would you do this?”

“Let’s just say I’m sick of scumbags getting away for stupid shit.”

He shook his head. “No, in order for this to work, we have to be open and honest with each other. Clearly, I greatly underestimated you. I’m used to this city and the detectives being--”

“Blasé?”

He laughed slightly. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

“Well, I agree about the open and honest clause. So, first of all, am I right? Did you kill those eighteen people?”

Again, a long gaze. He was gauging whether or not you were telling the truth about not arresting him.

“Yes.”

He gave you a tense look, almost as if he were waiting on disgust or rejection. On the contrary though, a wave of pride and relief flooded you.

“What tipped you off?” he questioned.

“Your smirk, in our interrogation. You must get away with that a lot here.”

“I do. I get away with quite a bit. I fake a lot, very well.”

“Yes. You do. However, you over extended.”

“How so?”

“On the victims, you said something about how horrible it must be. None of your colleagues did this. They know it’s horrible, we’re all working this case, we all seek justice. Adding the sympathy bit just felt forced, felt like you were telling me exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“You’re good.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Well, I think we have a long night ahead of us, care to sit down?”

“Promise me you aren’t going to try and hurt me,” you said before you moved. “Or even more clear, swear to me you won’t kill me.”

Dexter peered at you and you looked at him.

“If I wanted to arrest you, I’d have come with backup. My team would be here. I would’ve called the Florida Bureau of Investigation. There are several ways I could’ve taken this to try and take you down but the fact of the matter is, I didn’t. I don’t want someone like you off the streets.”

“Why?”

“Because you do what the rest of us want to do.”

“Well… Either you’re very stupid for coming without backup or you somehow trust me.”

“I do.”

“Okay, I have no desire to kill you.”

“That’s a relief,” you joked lightly. “We can sit now.”

The two of you made your way to the couches. You made sure to watch Dexter sit across from you before you, and not after, lest he try to kill you from behind.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you asked once you got settled.

“Well let’s start small. Tell me about you, about your life.”

“I’m married, been married for eight years to another FBI agent. We have no children. We live in DC. We both work for the BAU. I’m an only child. My parents live in Kentucky and we’re rather close.”

“Sounds perfect,” he noted.

“You don’t have to do that,” you stated.

“Do what?” he asked, unsure what you were referring to.

“Pretend. Fake emotions. I’m sure it’s hard for you to do it day in and day out, every second of the day. That’s why you allow yourself little smirks like in my interrogation. Being open and honest includes not faking your emotions.”

Dexter stared at you in awe.

After a moment, he finally said, “You’re rather comfortable with a cold serial killer.”

“It’s my job to be comfortable around killers. If I wasn’t, I couldn’t do my job.” You shrugged.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Besides, you aren’t cold. You don’t kill children. But that reminds me, tell me about the non-criminals.”

“Sorry?”

“The eighteen, the ones that are criminals and got away are obvious. I want to know why you killed the others. I have a theory they aren’t as squeaky clean as they appeared.”

Dexter’s gaze dropped to his hands. “One of them killed three little boys, covered it up, and then said he couldn’t help himself. Another one was running a rape site and killing women. Another one was running sex trafficking. Another one was poisoning kids at bake sales.”

He continued to go down the list and you nodded.

“So I was right. You don’t kill without purpose.”

“Killing without purpose is just murder.”

A smile twitched onto your face.

“Precisely. In my line of work, I can’t just shoot a bad guy in the face because I discovered he’s the killer we’ve been looking for. No matter how much I want to, I can’t. He needs to be brought to justice. But I say fuck that. It’s time that bad people out there were just gone. I think jail helps those repent who commit small crimes. But repeat offenders are murderers, rapists… They don’t care, they aren’t sorry, so neither am I.”

He eyed you up and down, you weren’t sure what he was thinking, so you broke the silence.

“You asked me to tell you why I want to do it? That’s why. I’m tired of seeing sick fucks get off on technicalities, just to get the green light to go out and do it all over again.”

“Did a personal case happen?” he asked. You were sure he’d picked it up from people watching. The fact that people are driven by personal motive.

“No. Actually this wasn’t personal at all.”

“So why now?”

You shook your head. “Just… sick of it.”

He bobbed his head for a moment before you decided to go a different path.

“So tell me about you. Debra isn’t your bio sister and your foster father was a cop. Is that where you learned how to cover your tracks?”

“Yes, it is. I’m dating a woman with two children. Debra is my only relation left alive. I don’t have any close friends, for obvious reasons. I own a boat. I have a brother that tried to kill my sister.”

“Biological?”

“Yeah, apparently my mom was butchered in front of both of us as a child and it manifested into this desire to kill. He killed prostitutes and made it a game.”

“That’s awful. Why didn’t he just come up to you and say who he was?”

“Where is the fun in that?” he asked with a somewhat coy smile.

An odd sensation of friendliness hit you. He was being candid with you. He felt at least comfortable to joke about his true identity with you. This surprised you, and warmed your heart.

“Working girls aren’t killed?” you tried with a bit of a smile.

“Well, I don’t agree exactly with the senseless killing but I think he wanted to get my attention. I think he was the last person in this world that truly understood me.”

This made you pause, and for a moment, feel sorry for him. He couldn’t share his identity with anyone. He couldn’t ever be himself with those he considered close. What an awful way to live.

“So no one besides your brother and father know about your… affliction?”

“No. I’d like to keep it that way. If Deb found out, she’d fucking lose it.”

You raised your hands in defense. “Only asking. I’m not telling anyone. At this point, if I told anyone my ass would be on the line too.”

“So your husband doesn’t know you’re here?”

“He knows I’m investigating. He knows I got close… I never gave him your name or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“Again, bold or stupid.”

“Maybe both. I took a leap of faith coming here but seeing as your father and sister are both cops, and you work for cops, I hoped you might hesitate to kill me. I also hoped that if I didn’t threaten you, you wouldn’t feel compelled to silence me.”

He thought for only a moment before speaking. “Well if we’re really going to do this… you can’t tell your husband.”

“Of course. He would… I don’t even want to think of what would happen if he knew I was here just talking to you and not arresting you.”

This was true. You hadn’t really even thought about Spencer ever, ever finding out about what you were doing. Even if you never killed anyone, just the fact that you were sitting here with Dexter, and not apprehending him, would make him question your entire relationship. The thought of him discovering the truth made your chest tight and your stomach knot up.

At best, he would divorce you, which would kill you. At worst, he would imprison you and Dexter. None of those things could ever happen.

“He doesn’t share your worldview?” he wondered, his brows knitting together.

You laughed. “No. Of course not. He believes in the justice system.”

“And you don’t?”

With a shrug, you answered, “Not really. Not any more.”

“Kind of sad.”

“What’s sad is I do my job, get the fucker, and he gets away.”

Dexter nodded.

“I just can’t live in this world anymore knowing these… these monsters are out molesting kids, murdering innocent fathers, torturing animals, and they get to walk free because some asshole defense attorney pulled a bullshit loophole. It’s sickening and I just can’t do it anymore. It’s heartbreaking and enraging to do my job, work day and night to find them, and in the end, it means nothing.”

“I know what you mean. I watch my sister work her ass off to get the criminals the ‘right way’ only for it to backfire. To have her wait days for a search warrant and in the meantime they’ve destroyed the evidence because they smelled the cops a mile away. It gets hard to watch her, and the rest of them, scramble to do what’s ‘right’ and it not work out for them. My way is faster and efficient. No more bad guy, no red tape, no chance of them repeating the offense.”

You merely bobbed your head. The two of you sat quietly for a moment. He was probably trying to decide if he trusted you and you were trying to make sure this is really what you wanted. At this point, you could shake hands, and walk away. You would tell him to keep fighting the good fight, but that this wasn’t for you.

But it was.

“So will you do it? Will you teach me?”

“What if I say no? Will you arrest me?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Dex, I already said I don’t want you off the streets. I won’t arrest you. I’ll pretend to keep investigating. I’ll flounder a bit. Then turn it in as a cold case with no leads. You can live your life, and I’ll live mine. You’ll never hear from me ever again.”

“Seems too easy.”

“I’m sure it does for you. And I’m sure, with your survival instincts you’ll want to kill me, to protect your identity, but I’ll do anything and everything I can to prove to you that I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I have no evidence of it. You haven’t told me how you do it, when you do it, where you dump the bodies. All I can tie to you and some of the victims is that you work at the Miami PD and some of them have been there, that’s kind of a long shot.”

“You’ve got a point. Alright… I’ll do it.”

Your face lit up.

“You will?”

“Yes, but we need to have some ground rules. First off, you need to put me in your phone as a girl. Give me a name, I don’t care. But it will lower suspicion if I call or text and your husband is nearby. If he asks who I am, just say I’m a new neighbor.”

“And you?”

“I’ll put you in my phone as a man. I’ll tell my girlfriend something similar. We have to stay under the radar at all times.”

He grabbed your phone and keyed in a number and handed it back to you, then grabbed his phone from the counter and gave it to you.

“Won’t people see us eventually?” you wondered.

“Yes, probably. We just explain that we hit it off during the interrogation.”

“But until then, keep it quiet.”

“As quiet as we can.”

“I can absolutely do that. Don’t need my husband or the FBI getting suspicious.”

A laugh rolled out of him. “No, we do not. I think that’s enough for today though. Um, I’ll call you the next time I get ready to hunt.”

The phrase took me by surprise for a second so you stopped. “Hunting as in--”

“Looking for a new victim.”

At this, you bobbed your head. “Right.”

You began to walk out the door, Dexter behind you, making you hyper aware of your surroundings. He could still very well kill you. But he didn’t. When you got to the door, you opened it, spinning in the doorway.

“Thank you…”

“For what?” he asked, frowning.

“Trusting me. I’m sure that is extremely difficult for you. You may not even fully trust me, but you trust me enough to walk out your door and that speaks volumes for our relationship.”

A slight smile twitched at his lips before he nodded. “Right. Well… have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too. Goodnight, Dexter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

@feelmyroarrrr

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo

@damalseer

@heyitscam99

@yknott81

@thelittlebigirl

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

@sea040561

@princess76179

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@sarahp879

@malfoysqueen14

@ellallheart

@breezy1415

@marvelmayo

@paintballkid711

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999

@ultrarebelheart

@lenawiinchester

@esoltis280

#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic

61 notes · View notes

wat-the-cur · 4 years

Text

“The ‘Burbs” Theory: Ricky Butler is a killer

I’m definitely not the first person to have thought of this theory, but I have some things to say about it. To flesh things out a little, my take on this theory is that Ricky killed his parents, possibly out of curiosity as to what killing is like, or in imitation of the video nasties he enjoys. He most likely used a house, or garden tool to do it, as we see that he is in the process of painting his house during the film. I believe he would have done this just before the events of the film, which is why we never see Ricky’s parents. His story about them being away for the week is untrue.

With this set up laid out, I want to talk about a scene that I think is suggestive of this theory; the “Soda Fountain Skip” scene. Let’s run through that scene with this theory in mind.

First of all, while Ricky is comparing the presence of the Klopeks to an arrival from Hell, he glances back at Ray a little cheekily, like a kid with a secret. Neither Ray, nor Art would have been able to see it, as Ricky has his back to them. With the idea that Ricky is a murderer in mind, this moment would seem to foreshadow Art’s proclamation that horrific things happen under all their noses. That said, until we get into the meat of the scene, this could be passed off as nothing more that Ricky taking pleasure in unsettling Ray.

It is only when Art begins to tell the story of Skip, that things actually begin to look suspicious. We witness an almost jarring change in Ricky’s demeanour and body language. He seems to almost deflate. His arms become limp, his head becomes heavy, his expression turns grim. Even his voice flattens out, losing it’s usual bounce. He seems almost nervous, too. He stops drinking his beer, he picks at his face. When he laughs he sounds stilted, a little shaky. At first glance all this is quite bemusing, as it doesn’t seem to fit Ricky’s character at all.

TV Tropes describes Ricky as a “nightmare fetishist”. Ricky, just as much as Art, is very hung up on the idea of the cul-de-sac having a dark, gruesome underbelly. But, unlike Art, he is more in love with the idea, than frightened. We know that he enjoys horror films and stories, and watches the goings on of the Neighborhood like a TV show, building a plot in his mind. When the gang comes to each unpleasant conclusion about what must be going on, Ricky seems more happy and satisfied than disturbed. He takes great amusement in seeing Art and Ray suffer in their quest to figure out the Klopeks. When they break into Walter’s house to check if he’s okay, Ricky insists upon checking if he slipped on his bathroom floor and cracked his head open, himself. He is very excited by the thought of blood. Ricky is fascinated the nightmarish side of life. This is why it does not seem to make any sense for Ricky to be uncomfortable about a simple murder story. Ricky must have read dozens of them in his life, and the fact that this one took place locally should interest him even more. What is going on here?

I think that Ricky already knows this story. I don’t think it would be likely for someone like him to never have heard it, before. Even if you consider that Ricky’s family could be a fairly recent arrival in the cul-de-sac, and his parents would not have known about Skip, Ricky would still probably have found out about him from somewhere. He’s a curious kid. Skip’s story is exactly the sort of thing that would be passed down through generations of school children, turning it from a front page story, into a local urban legend. I think Ricky would definitely have found out about the story, one way of another, before Art tells it.

At first, Ricky’s apparent lack of enthusiasm, and feigned ignorance would suggest that he is bored with this story, but wants to give Art the chance to tell it to him, like it’s new. That is until we get the the climax of the story, where it is revealed that Skip killed his family with an ice pick. The moment that we see a look of genuine, wide eyed terror on Ricky’s face. You could argue, for one that I am wrong about Ricky knowing the story, and two, that I am wrong about him being as into scary stories as he makes out. Is he actually frightened by the thought that this story is true, not just from a book, or a movie? Well, I would ask you to remember the theory that Ricky had killed his own family, before this point, then remember who Ricky is talking to.

The film takes great pains to show that Art is the nosiest, most suspicious neighbour you would have the misfortune of sharing a street with. Ricky might enjoy watch Art’s spying, his interference in everyone else’s lives, under the pretence of solving a mystery, but how would he feel if that was turned on him? Ricky isn’t unsettled by a scary story in this scene, he is momentarily terrified that Art knows. Just as Art reveals that Skip was a murderer, he moves very close to Ricky and looks him right in the eye. To Ricky, having known what was coming, having known the very similar crime he committed not long ago, this likely feels like an accusation. Ricky doesn’t really look spooked in this scene, so much as like he has be caught with his hand in the till. Gone is the smug expression that we saw earlier in the scene. He looks guilty, as well as scared.

Fortunately for Ricky, Art has his attention in the wrong place. Though he talks about things going on under their noses, he looks to the most obvious suspects, in this case, the Klopeks. Ricky realises this fairly soon after his little panic. He seems to realise how oddly he has been behaving, as well. Though Art and Ray have been too caught up in the story to really notice the change in Ricky, Ricky still covers his tracks. He makes sure their attention is diverted fully back to the Klopeks, by mentioning a smell like death, surrounding their house. He becomes bright eyed and bushy tailed again, playing detective with them. He even deliberately startles Ray, as the icing on the cake to his goofy kid act. After this, all seriousness between the three has completely evaporated. Any chance of Ricky coming close to being investigated by Art has been scuppered, if ever there was a chance in the first place. And, what with the reveal of the Klopeks actually being guilty at the end, there is slim chance of anything else being discussed for some time. We can assume that Ricky would have gotten away with his murder, at least for a time after the film has ended.

#the burbs #the burbs (1989)#80s movies #80s films #ricky butler #film theory

5 notes · View notes

snows-labcoat · 5 years

Text

Observations and Realizations || Part Two

Summary: Team Flash watched you and Caitlin Snow fall in love. Your story, from their perspective.

Pairing: Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost x reader

Read: Part One

Okay okay, yes. Barry Allen can be oblivious, but it didn’t go over his head that Caitlin was biting her lip like she always does if something is bugging her; the one thing he seems to pick up on, sometimes. He noticed that during the struggle of losing her father, you were always next to her.

Not that that was particularly abnormal for you two— but he caught how you always seemed to be lightly intertwining your fingers. He watched one night, when he was coming back to grab Iris’s laptop as Caitlin had stayed late— as she had broken down in her lab. This was when Killer Frost was still missing in action. Her whiteboard had been covered in notes upon notes.

Barry could not disregard the fact that you were the first person she called. The notion that she called somebody in the first place— was highly unusual.

He heard you arrive in record time and immediately sped off, forgetting about Iris’s laptop. When he came back about two hours later, it was now almost 1 in the morning, you two were still together.

You were holding her so close in the lounge, a mug of (no longer) hot chocolate was on the coffee table in front of you two. You had been humming softly, lips just grazing her temple as she leaned into you, essentially nuzzling into your side as one of your arms wrapped around her back.

He stood out of view when he caught glimpse of you whispering something in the distraught woman’s ear. Standing up and releasing your hold on her hands before taking the cold mug out of the room.

But then— the tall speedster watched as Caitlin moved some of her hair out of her face, lightly brushing where your lips had grazed her temple as you sang.

He saw her stare at her hands while she traced where your thumb had been drawing patterns.

The speedster minded how Caitlin bit on her bottom lip just like she did that night they went to karaoke together, something was bothering her.

The next day, he picked up on how you were quieter. It wasn’t in a bad way— but you looked just a bit more attentive. Always casting what looked like worried glances at Caitlin. She’d look back at you, assuring that she was okay.

When the meta caught the woman of science, anxiously gnawing at her lip once more, he called her out.

She merely shrugged him off, telling him that she was fine. It was just the stress of losing Killer Frost. (He knew she was lying).

When he tried to prod more, Caitlin became snappy. (He should’ve learned after he elicited the same reaction when Ronnie died, back when he first started to bug Caitlin about not smiling during his first year).

Iris motioned for him to back off a bit, so he did. But not before he saw how she was ghosting her fingertips along her temple, once again.

Barry Allen watched you keep Caitlin grounded.

Ralph Dibny and Caitlin Snow had formed an unusual friendship. This mutual understanding of each other often had them sitting and chatting together when they could.

The last time they talked, he made a note on how often Caitlin seemed to mention you. When he saw her next, he placed the “Book of Ralph” in front of her and she crinkled her nose at him.

“Caity!—“

“Not my name”

“Why does she get to call you that?” He pouted, purposely bringing you up, causing Caitlin to just smirk.

She gave him a pointed look and he clapped his hands together.

Ralph had a plan. A plan that didn’t involve his book, per say. Or— better worded, it didn’t involve what was actually inside the book.

See, it caught his eye how your eyebrows furrowed when he brought out the all too familiar book and set it in front of Caitlin, how you left the room but not without brushing your hand against hers,, how it lingered longer than normal. You were jealous.

“I think it’s time we find you somebody new! Bear with me but, it has been awhile”

He noticed the way she glanced around the room, searching for something, or rather— someone.

The tall man continued his lesson, flipping pages and mainly talking gibberish, but always making certain parts extra loud.

He saw Caitlin shift awkwardly in her seat as he continued to speak about how sometimes, you can’t just wait for the next unconscious meta Barry brings in to crush on you and expect them to have soulmate written across their forehead. Which— by the way, is what happened with you. (Except the soulmate part. But,, that might as well be true too). That sometimes you gotta “go find love and grab it by the balls.”

His crude imagery aside, he knew his plan was working when he heard footsteps and saw you come in, holding a drink for Caitlin.

You gently pushed his book away from Caitlin and gave an uncomfortable smile.

Ralph smirked as soon as you began to speak about how he should leave Caitlin alone, and let her find love in her own time (you just really wanted her to love you).

He pouted a bit before pushing the book back at them, asking Caitlin to give it a shot when Killer Frost came out, shooting the book across the room and freezing it to the wall opposite from the three team mates.

The brown eyed man made an exasperated sound before raising his hands in fake surrender, leaving the room. Once his back turned though, he lips curled up in a smile as he confirmed his original notions.

Ralph Dibny watched Killer Frost warm up.

Now, don’t be mistaken. Cisco Ramon noticed things pretty early on. He actually bet money with Nora on who would confess first.

He and Nora were discussing the Jaws franchise when you had walked into the room, immediately wrapped into the conversation because of your love for Steven Spielberg, raving about how it was one of the best films released during the 1970s.

When he heard what sounded like a snort come from the other side of the room, he caught how Caitlin was snickering to herself in the med lab, cleaning her Erlenmeyer flasks.

After that, he felt Caitlin’s eyes watching. Granted, she was watching you, not him. But he still felt it.

He noticed how she smiled whenever you talked, she’d laugh to herself at your jokes, and how she’d sometimes just walk by and brush your hand with hers to say hello.

The dark haired man noticed how you’d show Caitlin puppy photos first instead of him, and how she’d always listen about whatever you were going on about, even if she had no idea what you were discussing because seeing you excited about anything made her smile.

After analyzing the best romance tropes in films, he and Nora had placed bets on who would confess their feelings first; the closed off, but secretly a cinnamon roll one— or the loving puppy who brings the closed off one out of their shell?

One morning, when he and Caitlin were working together, he saw the slightly larger blue flannel she donned, looking awfully similar to the one you wore a few days ago. He brushed his hand on the sleeve, immediately vibing what looked to be late last night. Caitlin had thrown on a sweater from your closet before jumping into your bed as you both just laid together, small smiles decorating your faces, lost in your own little world.

She raised a brow, Cisco’s lingering gaze not being discounted and he smirked, stating that the clothing change just seemed interesting. The doe eyed bio-engineer just narrowed her eyes playfully before tilting her head.

All Caitlin said was your name for explanation— confirming Cisco’s vibe that she spent the night at your place and took your flannel.

When he asked his best friend if she liked you, she looked confused at first, asking what exactly he meant before he gave a cheeky smile in her direction, saying nothing more. Caitlin shrugged it off but not without blush creeping onto her face.

Cisco Ramon watched Caitlin finally love again.

When Nora reversed time, (53 times, to be exact) she wrote down everything.

Key word; everything.

Including how no matter what changed— the one thing that didn’t was you two.

Most times, Ralph would always ask if Cisco’s left for his date unless Nora were to cut him off again. Cisco would typically say “not the book of Ralph, again!” followed suit by Ralph explaining “you successfully completed my 27 steps to getting over the love of your life. Gypsy is in the past. You have a new siren, so now it's time for "The Art of Love.” “

Cisco always turns to Caitlin before she says “I’ve gotta finish working on the device to inject the cure” and then she always takes a hold of your hand before pulling you with her towards the med bay.

No matter what, Caitlin always glances at you, she always holds your hand, and she always keeps you close by.

Over and over again. The variations on the dialogue were there, different people bringing up the “cyber-stalking” Kamilla, Iris’s work location changing— Nora changed things every time before team flash got their perfect trial. You and Caitlin, were a constant. Are a constant.

Nora wouldn’t be surprised if she were to travel and on every earth— discover that you two are together in some way.

(She most definitely did not test this theory out).

Nora watched the stars align.

Doctor Caitlin Snow. Everyone would agree that she's loyal. Everyone would agree that she's compassionate. Everyone would also agree that she has no idea how to properly handle her own emotions. Sometimes. (Most of the time).

It came as no surprise that it took a while for everything to come to fruition.

When Barry first rushed into Star Labs, your limp body in his arms— Caitlin wasted no time. The blood staining your shirt was coating her gloves as she ushered everyone out of the med lab, knowing that she was going to have to undress you in order to treat the large cut on your back.

She stayed overnight to monitor you, and when you finally woke the next morning, the sound of your voice caught her off guard, but it’s safe to say she immediately was enraptured by you.

It took time for her to realize it, though. She looks back and bites her tongue at how in denial she was. She always knew, in a sense. Caitlin’s intuition would scream at her. The way seeing you in her sweater made her feel was more than platonic, how every time you brushed your hand against hers, she wanted to tangle her fingers in yours. She thinks back to every time you would dance with her, when a practically never ending smile would spread. The rough days and long nights made easier to shoulder as long as you were by her side. “It’s not a burden if we shoulder it together”

There were so many times when you’d hold her tight as the world got to be a little too much. Caitlin Snow didn’t cry very much, but she knew that when she did— you’d always be there.

Killer Frost didn’t really do “love” — at least, romantically. Which is why when she found herself making more appearances, she chalked it up to mere intrigue. Definitely not any upset over the way Ralph had tried to “set her up” with somebody else, or that time some person from the bar Ralph dragged Team Flash to got a little too friendly with you. (In Frost’s defense, the dude was definitely trying to corner you).

Killer Frost protected you, as you protected Caitlin.

Now— don’t be mistaken, the bio-engineer was always by your side. She still protected you. When it felt like weights were shackled to your ankles, Caitlin managed to get you to dance again. When your never-ending smile became too much to bear, Caitlin could always get one out of you— even for a single moment.

If she could freeze time whenever you’d smile, she would take that opportunity. There was exactly one moment when Barry had taken her into Flash Time. You were sat in the lounge with Iris and Nora, a guitar resting on your thigh and a laugh painted across the scene. She wished she could’ve stayed, just a little longer.

Dr. Caitlin Snow watched you make the world a better place.

The two of you fell in love, and for those who were lucky enough to witness, fell in love too.

#caitlin snow x reader #caitlin snow #caitlin snow/killer frost #killer frost #killer frost x reader #Barry Allen #Ralph Dibny #Cisco Ramon #nora west allen #joe west #cecile horton #iris west allen #iris west #sherloque wells #my stuff

154 notes · View notes

dismuch47 · 5 years

Text

Game of Thrones Theories

It’s always fun to throw these out there and read them again after things have gone down. So here is my revised theory list, as my predictions have altered somewhat...

ARYA STARK

Hate to say it, but I think she’s gonna die. She was obsessed with legends of heroes as a child... and now she is one: Arya Stark who disguised herself as a boy with her sword Needle, favorite of the Many Faced god, who completed revenge on those who murdered her family, killer of the untouchable Little Fnger, and slayer of dragons. I added the last one, because I KNOW she is going to kill an ice dragon with that spear. She is going to be the source of so much inspiration to bards, but she is going to be cut down in this war against the Night King. “Okay... today...” She will tell the god of Death, “But not this second...” as she does one last amazing feat to give the good guys the tipped scale they need...like a bad ass boss. Gendry will listen to her hero deeds through songs for the rest of his life, bitter sweet smile on his lips for his first love and the most bad ass woman he ever knew.

GENDRY BARATHEON

Obviously I love the Gendrya ship, that’s why they come first to my mind, but I don’t think they are fated to be together. Their love is true, but she never wanted to be a Lady in a castle. And I don’t think she’s going to survive to the very end. But I do feel that Gendry is being built up to take the iron throne. That this series is going to end how it began; the wheel will not break, but it will wear down. But this time... a Baratheon and Stark will rule... as it should have been the first time. Gendry will have bard songs to remember his first love Arya, but he will be in matrimony with Sansa. It will be a political move... but as he is kind, she is beautiful and witty... it will work. Love... not sure, but he’ll be true to her, unlike Robert. Oh... and there is still a chance that he could be legitimate...but I’ve already written about that and don’t want to take the time to write it all up again. Short version: It’s all Jamie’s fault the Cersei is crazy and Gendry was raised by a blacksmith.

SANSA STARK

There was a time that I hoped that Sansa would renew her marriage to Tyrion, for numerous reasons (I might have shipped them at one point..), but I feel that Sansa is no longer bewitched by the idea of being married for the sake of love. It is obvious that the north looks to her as their level-headed ruler, and she becomes more and more like her mother every day... so I feel that she’s going to be on the throne... and pressured to marry Gendry Baratheon. They will have a long winter to turn him into the king figurehead he needs to be... but Sansa is the one pulling the strings and whose council he trusts. It will be political, but they could grow to lust for each other and...who knows... love? The fact that they both love Arya (though for different reasons) is just more common ground.

BRAN STARK

I don’t care. But I feel like the three-eyed raven does more harm then good. Pushes people away. And when his plan totally fails, we’ll see that everything was going to play out exactly the way it would have even without his “help.” Hello I can see everything that has already happened: WORST SUPER POWER EVER. Seriously, warg some crap to make things better for everyone instead of making them feel self-conscious for things they can’t control! I truly believe that the death of the “memory of man” is a good thing...all these prophecies and fates make everyone feel trapped... instead of letting everyone carve their future with bold uncertainty. I’m calling it now... death of three-eyed Raven is a GOOD thing. It will help wear down, or break the cycle.

JON SNOW

He never wanted the throne, and I don’t think him finding out who he is has changed that. It’s only there to add drama and tension. I do feel that he’s going to have to play out that prophecy of killing his beloved, Daenerys... because DRAMA. He’s going to end up either taking their boat baby elsewhere to be raised or he’s going to die. I would like to think he would survive... because I don’t think Dany is going to make it... and the dragon line will continue... though maybe not with the dragons...

MOTHER OF DRAGONS

She dead. The days of commanding mythical creatures and magical people are coming to an end. Drogon will die by the Night King’s Dragon, which will be able to HURT DANY WITH IT’S FLAMES since it is not regular fire... so her mortality in battle will come as a hard blow. Strip her of the muscle, which was gained with muscle and dragons, take away dragons and you have a very vulnerable woman with no real know-how to lead or inspire loyalty. So really, in my opinion, her usefulness is going to run shockingly low once the NK army mows over her 3,000 like nothing. Except for drama. So... boat baby and turning against Jon...and having to be killed by him...for....yah now. DRAMA. I’m sorry, but I’m just over her.

CERSEI LANNISTER

I think Jamie will be responsible for her death, but not in the way that we think. I think she is going to legit kill him. And possibly his gold hand will come into play of her death...whether by being bludgeoned by it (*cough* by Brie of Tarth *cough*) or being melted down into a sentimental weapon to killer her with (*cough* by Brie of Tarth *cough*).

SIR BRIENNE OF TARTH

Oh she gonna LIVE, baby. She gonna team up with The Hound to take down The Mountain. She gonna put the Mad Queen down. And then she gonna be head of the King’s guard. Because that’s how you crush the wheel of sexism, baby!

JAMIE LANNISTER

Dead. Just... dead. He’s gotten redemption, he’s pissed off Cersei and at times is responsible for her madness... so... dead. It’s time. And I’m sure it will be sentimental and in the arms of a gorgeous lady knight which is more than he deserves... Or crumpled up by the Mountain.

TYRION LANNISTER

He’s my fav. He’s my boy. But I don’t know if he’s gonna make it. How nice would it be if he did... that the one that everyone mocks as being weak and useless and ugly makes it out on top...but I just don’t know. If he doesn’t make it, may it be on his witty terms, and not like a coward.

BRONN

Dead.

THEON GREYJOY

I don’t want him to die... because his redemption has been heartbreaking and sincere, but I also don’t want him to live with the memory of what he’s been through. I could see him dying honorably, and it would be a sigh of relief to him.

YARA GREYJOY

You go get that fishy throne! You’re doing amazing sweetie.

NIGHT KING

So I’ve always had a theory that the white walkers and the long winters are basically a reset button for mankind when things get too immoral, incesty, and just unbalanced...so while they are terrifying and it seems horrible that they take infants for their army and slaughter thousands.. look at what the human kingdoms are doing: burning little girls, sacrificing infants, slaughters at weddings, using imprisoning and torturing in the name of righteousness, brother and sister joining in lust, conquerors called messiahs... it’s an unholy mess and the white walkers are like “yucccccck... let’s just mow this over and see if anything worthy crops back up in the spring...” This whole summer verses winter... it’s a tale as old as time: death must come in order to purify for a hopeful spring. It’s a cycle...and I think that the walkers are apart of the cycle when it comes to mankind. But if they are defeated, then mankind is going to be left to face it’s own morality issues, rather than blame an ultimate evil. Can mankind even handle that? And then there’s the theory that the NK is just cruising for a queen, which I find reasonable. And if he is...it’s going to be a Stark, as a call out to the Stark Crow that went mad for a White Walker Queen.

So those are some predictions. It will be interesting to see who gets killed tonight...

#got spoilers #theories

12 notes · View notes

edogawatranslations · 6 years

Text

999: Alterna (2) - Part 6, Chapters 6-9

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 6, Chapters 4-5

Chapter 6

What if Zero is one of us?

My words only caused everyone else to freeze in place. Nobody said a thing in response. However, everyone’s pupils darted around, attempting to read the others’ hearts.

Each time one person’s eyes locked with another’s, the atmosphere in the room grew more rigid and awkward.

“...J-Jumpy, what are you saying?” Akane said, no longer able to stand the silence. “Did you not hear what Ace said a little while ago?”

“Yes, that must be it,” Ace continued. “I was saying, we must avoid recklessly suspecting one another, or else—”

“Recklessly? There’s nothing reckless about it,” I interrupted. “I have proof.”

“What do you mean, proof?” Seven asked.

I stuck out my left wrist. “Our bracelets. Why is the detonation controlled by an automatic countdown?”

I had thought that Zero was observing our every action from a distance. But if that were the case, all he’d have to do is remotely detonate the appropriate bomb when a rule was broken. That would be the sure-fire, simpler method.

“However, in reality, Zero jumped through a bunch of hoops to set up these bracelet-controlled time bombs. Why is that?”

Nobody answered.

“It’s not just the bracelets. The same can be said for just about everything in this game.”

The many contraptions set up throughout the ship were all autonomous. Everything had been programmed to proceed mechanically, without any need for Zero to directly intervene. Why was that? Why would Zero go so far to set up these bothersome devices?

Only one answer made sense.

“I see. So that’s why you think Zero’s hiding among us.” Santa smiled coldly. “If he’s moving together with us, it’d be tough for him to closely monitor all of our actions or control things remotely. That’s why everything on this ship had to be set up to function autonomously... You’re smarter than I thought.”

I couldn’t take that praise as anything but disdain.

I continued, “I believe Seven’s theory that ‘Snake’s killer is among us’ and Ace’s theory that ‘Zero killed Snake’ are both correct. Zero is one of us.”

Nobody refuted my argument. I didn’t know if they were convinced or not. Everyone continued to stare in silence, stern expressions plastered on their faces.

Chapter 7

What seemed like an eternal silence was finally broken by the grandfather clock on the central staircase signalling the time.

The deep, heavy sound of the bell rang out three times. Only three hours remained.

“We’re only wasting our time arguing here. We must move on,” Ace said, looking around at everyone.

“But—”

My attempted rebuttal was only met with his sharp, piercing gaze. My body subconsciously flinched from his commanding glare.

“Do you not realize how dangerous it is to pry into things? Our fates are in Zero’s hands. What would you do if he could detonate the bombs inside our bodies with the press of a button?”

Ace’s opinion stood to reason. Carelessly provoking Zero was not a good idea. Backing him too far into a corner would only make him desperate.

Zero had to be one of us. I wanted to reveal his identity as soon as possible, but Ace was right—we needed to shut up and move on.

“Oh, that’s right.” Lotus clapped her hands together in realization. “I totally forgot to tell everyone on account of everything that happened with Snake... But I found it. The next set of numbered doors.”

Claiming the credit all for herself, Lotus puffed her chest out with pride.

“No kiddin’?” Seven asked.

“Yes. Come, follow me.” Lotus opened the white door and started walking down the hallway that led to the central staircase. Seven, Ace, and Santa followed suit. Clover, however, didn’t budge from the bed.

“Clover, let’s go too.” Akane gently rested her hand on Clover’s shoulder.

“...Leave me alone,” Clover said listlessly, keeping her gaze pointed downwards. “I don’t care what happens to me anymore. If I can’t be with my brother anymore... I can’t go on living. I’ll stay here, forever...”

“I don’t think that’s what your brother would have wanted,” Akane said, showing concern. “Zero wants you to stay behind and despair. Don’t you want to rebel against that? Let’s stop his plans, once and for all.”

“I don’t really care about that...”

“Don’t you want to keep living for your brother?”

Clover’s shoulders twitched.

“I want to keep living.” Akane’s bright-eyed appeal to Clover’s emotions stole my heart. The confident girl standing there was not the same timid girl I grew up with. She continued, “I don’t want to die in a place like this.”

With a look of determination, Akane turned her head up to face the empty ceiling. Her tenacity to live lit a fire in my heart, inspiring a burst of newfound energy within me.

Akane’s right. We’d never accept dying here. I vowed to myself.

“You must not ever lose hope. What’s important is to have faith, and to have love. When all of those conditions are met, good luck is never far behind,” I said, walking over to Clover. “Clover, that’s what you told me. You can’t give up here.”

With her right hand, Clover clung to the pendant that had been swaying around her neck and slowly looked up.

“Brother...” She wiped her tear-stained cheeks with her other hand. “You’re right... If I die here, then I couldn’t tell anyone anymore about how amazing my brother was...”

Akane helped her off the bed. An awkward smile appeared on Clover’s face.

“Thank you... I feel better now.”

Although she had a slight stagger in her gait, she appeared at ease as she walked off towards the white door. Akane and I followed closely behind, supporting her on either side.

Once we reached the white door, Clover turned around to look at the [3] door.

“So long, Brother.” She rubbed her puffy red eyes as she offered her parting words to Snake. A sense of solemnity filled the air.

“Now, let’s hurry.” Akane took Clover by the hand and guided her through the door.

Chapter 8

As I followed the two of them down the narrow hallway, thoughts raced through my head. Though Ace had warned about how dangerous it was to pry into things, I couldn’t help but wonder about Zero’s true identity.

“You need at least three people to open a numbered door. The culprits used the <RED> with Snake and opened the [3] door. And then they pushed him in.”

Seven’s words echoed in my mind. If his theory was right, then that meant at least two people were responsible for Snake’s death.

If so, which two people could have opened the [3] door with Snake?

First, I thought of the possible combinations if two people were responsible. Snake’s bracelet number was [2]. Which other two bracelet numbers would make a digital root of [3]?

It wasn’t a difficult calculation. In order to make a digital root of [3], the bracelet numbers would have to make a sum of 12. Since I knew that one of the numbers was [2], the other two would have to add up to 10. There were only two possible combinations.

The first was [4] and [6]—Clover and June. No, that was impossible. There’s no way June could be Zero.

Which left only one other combination: [3] and [7]—Santa and Seven.

If there were only two culprits, that would be the only possible combination.

Now then, what if there were at least three culprits? First, I thought of the combinations of bracelet numbers including Snake’s [2] that added up to 12.

[2] + ([1] + [3] + [6]) [2] + ([1] + [4] + [5])

Again, there were only two possible combinations. However, neither of these could be possible. I for sure wasn’t Zero, and it was difficult to think of Akane as a culprit.

Then, what about the combinations that totaled 21? This calculation took a bit more effort, but somehow I was able to figure it all out in my head.

[2] + ([4] + [7] + [8]) [2] + ([5] + [6] + [8]) [2] + ([1] + [3] + [7] + [8]) [2] + ([1] + [4] + [6] + [8]) [2] + ([1] + [5] + [6] + [7]) [2] + ([3] + [4] + [5] + [7])

Six possible combinations. I threw out all of the combinations that included me or Akane.

[2] + ([4] + [7] + [8]) [2] + ([1] + [3] + [7] + [8])

Once again, only two possible combinations remained. As it would be difficult to imagine that Clover feigned her grief, I crossed the first combination off in my mind. That left just one—Ace, Santa, Seven, and Lotus. This was impossible as well. If the four of them were conspiring together, then they should have easily been able to carry out an even more convoluted plot. For example, when Ace, Clover, and Seven went to search the x-ray room, that would have been an opportune time to kill Clover.

This meant that the Santa-Seven combination was the most suspicious. I had to stay vigilant around the two of them from here on out.

Pushing open the black door, we reached the central staircase and finally caught up to the four who went ahead. We all shuffled into the elevator and headed up to A-Deck.

After stepping off the elevator, I took the lead from Lotus and guided everyone to the numbered doors.

The [6] door stood straight ahead.

The [1] door stood to our left.

The [2] door stood to our right.

The large iron doors stood firm, as if scorning our frightened figures.

“...This makes eight of them,” Lotus said while rubbing her right wrist.

“Eight? Eight what?” Seven asked, furrowing his brow.

“Geez, you’re slow. The first set of doors was [4] and [5]. Next came [3], [7], and [8]. And now, [1], [2], and [6]. That means we’ve found eight doors already, you see?”

“Ah, guess you’re right. ...Wait a sec. Then that means the next door is...”

“Yep. I think it’s highly probable.” Lotus crossed her arms and smirked. “The next numbered door is [9].”

We were close to the goal.

I felt an anxious throbbing in my chest. At the same time, an unnerving sense of fear crawled up my body.

Only five of us could pass through the final [9] door. Two of us would be left behind.

Before long, we’d have to make that decision.

Would I be able to remain calm when that time comes?

Chapter 9

I secretly confided in my brother all of the inexplicable things that have been happening with my body.

Yet he simply laughed everything off.

He doesn’t believe me at all.

Of course.

I can’t possibly blame him.

After all, not even I fully believe everything that’s been going on.

Next: Part 7, Chapters 1-2

#999 alterna #9 hours 9 persons 9 doors #nine hours nine persons nine doors #zero escape

11 notes · View notes

iol247 · 5 years

Text

Hyakujos Fox

Once when Hyakujo delivered some Zen lectures an old man attended them, unseen by the monks. At the end of each talk when the monks left so did he. But one day he remained after they had gone, and Hyakujo asked him: `Who are you?’

The old man replied: `I am not a human being, but I was a human being when the Kashapa Buddha preached in this world. I was a Zen master and lived on this mountain. At that time one of my students asked me whether the enlightened man is subject to the law of causation. I answered him: “The enlightened man is not subject to the law of causation.” For this answer evidencing a clinging to absoluteness I became a fox for five hundred rebirths, and I am still a fox. Will you save me from this condition with your Zen words and let me get out of a fox’s body? Now may I ask you: Is the enlightened man subject to the law of causation?’

Hyakujo said: `The enlightened man is one with the law of causation.’

At the words of Hyakujo the old man was enlightened. `I am emancipated,’ he said, paying homage with a deep bow. `I am no more a fox, but I have to leave my body in my dwelling place behind this mountain. Please perform my funeral as a monk.’ Then he disappeared.

– Excerpt from the koan Hyakujo’s Fox

In Zen, a koan is a story or dialogue designed to trigger and test understanding. It’s a fascinating literary form. Incredibly dense. Often, koans convey multiple layers of meaning in less than a hundred words. Sometimes just a few sentences.

The koan Hyakujo’s Fox, sometimes called the Wild Fox Koan, is of particular interest to me because it touches on many of the themes near and dear to us here at Epsilon Theory. Here a monk transforms himself into a fox by “clinging to absoluteness.” While this is absurd on its face, it’s really just a fancy way of arguing that perception is reality.

You are what you eat, the saying goes. More importantly: you are what you think.

Recently, a friend and I were texting about the meaning of life. (what? you and your friends don’t text regularly about the meaning of life?) My friend wrote that in the end, all you can really do is carry your cross to the finish line. I quite like this. It cuts right to the heart of the issue. There are no Answers. There is only Process. I did suggest adding an inscrutable Zen twist, however. My version:

In the end, all you can really do is carry your cross to the finish line. Except there is no finish line, there is no cross, and there is no you.

People sometimes ask me, if all the world is narrative and meme, then how can we tell what’s real?

As far as social reality is concerned, it’s about as real as any game or theatre production. There’s the White Collar Corporate Power Game, for example. There’s Partisan Political Theatre. There’s the Social Status Game. If you prefer more high-brow forms of entertainment, you can indulge in Religious Theatre and Intellectual Theatre (I have a soft spot for the latter). But let’s not kid ourselves. It’s theatre and games, all the way down.

This shouldn’t come as news to anyone. Heck, it’s been right there in the Bible for over a thousand years. That bit about the camel passing through the eye of the needle easier than the rich man making it to the Kingdom of Heaven? That’s Jesus teaching that wealth and status are not inherently meaningful or worthwhile. Accumulating wealth and power are just games we play.

A while back, I wrote a note about this manufactured nature of social realities. I wrote then that it was a clear eyes note. Well. This is the full hearts sequel.

You see, I’m pretty confident asserting that social reality–what we think of as “how the world works”–is the output of the following chaotic process.

nature (basically physics & biology) + nurture (operant conditioning) + randomness (error term)

I say this is a chaotic process because social reality is a three-body problem. There’s no closed-form solution. And the process is extremely sensitive to starting conditions. Everything else, as they say, is commentary.

I’m pretty sure the above is true. Yet it troubles me. First and foremost, it induces many a dark night of existential dread—that thick, dark curtain of despair that tends to descend whenever we contemplate our inevitable end. It’s not really physical death that bothers us (if it were, we wouldn’t find very much consolation in religion). No. What really bothers us is ego-death. What really bothers us is the dissolution of the self.

After all, physical death is no biggie if your consciousness (soul) transcends physical death. If that’s the case, then dying isn’t much different from moving to another country. Ego-death, on the other hand, is true death. Ego-death is non-existence. The void.

So what if there is no grand meaning to it all?

What if it all really does reduce down to nature + nurture + randomness, and the entire arc of the history of our universe is just a single run in some elaborate Monte Carlo simulation?

Frankly, you can take this to some pretty dark and nihilistic places. Perhaps no one articulates it better than the Misfit, the psychopathic antagonist of Flannery O’Connor’s short story, “A Good Man Is Hard To Find.”

“Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead,” the Misfit continued, “and He shouldn’t have done it. He thrown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then it’s nothing for you to do but throw away everything and follow Him, and if He didn’t, then it’s nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can—by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness,” he said and his voice had become almost a snarl.

The Misfit is one of my favorite antagonists in literature. You can read him almost any way you want. Maybe he’s nothing more than a rambling, murderous redneck. Or maybe he’s the most coldly rational, self-aware, introspective character in the story. The Misfit spent an awful lot of time in prison, after all. He’s had plenty of time to meditate on The Meaning of Life.

“Some fun!” exclaims his accomplice, Bobby Lee, after their gang finishes killing the Grandmother and her family.

“Shut up Bobby Lee,” the Misfit said. “It’s no real pleasure in life.”

(SPOILER) That’s the last line of the story. These days I like to read the Misfit as a kind of anti-zen monk. He’s got it all twisted. But he hasn’t necessarily got it wrong. He’s Hyakujo’s Fox. For clinging to absoluteness, he has been sentenced to suffer 500 rebirths as a psychotic spree killer.

So what the hell are we supposed to do about all this, exactly? How does one cultivate a clear-eyed view of our world without embracing murderous nihilism?

For starters, we quit looking for Answers. They don’t exist. Self-actualization has no closed-form solution.

But there is a Process.

The three images above are all of ensōs. An ensō is just a circle, drawn in a single stroke. Hitsuzendō is a form of zen practice where one draws ensōs as a meditative practice. The process is simplicity itself. You just draw a circle with a calligraphy brush. Maybe you close the circle. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you’ve got a thick, continuous circle. Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter what the circle looks like. Don’t overthink it. Just draw a circle.

Here’s the trick: everything we do in life and investing is as simple as drawing an ensō. Every. Single. Thing. As Ben wrote in his Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose manifesto:

“You want freedom? You want an autonomy of mind and spirit? You want that as an inalienable right? A right that is yours simply because you are a human being? Well, that comes at a price. And the Kantian price is this: everything you do, you must do for the right reasons.

It’s really as simple – and as difficult – as that.

What are the right reasons? You don’t need me to tell you. You already know what they are, in every situation you’re in. You have a moral compass. But I’ll tell you anyway. Acting for the right reasons means acting in a way that reflects who you ARE as a moral human being. It means acting for your identity as a moral human being, not as a propitiation to some god or potentate, not as an exchange for some “greater good” that someone else has talked you into pursuing. Not even for gaining a Supreme Court seat. Not even for denying a Supreme Court seat.”

Note that I wrote this was simple above. I didn’t say it was going to be easy.

Question: Is morality socially constructed through a process where biological systems are socially conditioned to respond in particular ways to particular stimuli, or is morality an innate moral compass manifested in Kantian ethics?

Answer: Yes.

Now draw yours.

https://www.epsilontheory.com/hyakujos-fox/

0 notes

asagimeta · 7 years

Note

Double-Face's search for a "perfect host body" feels very much like the DDS experiments in s5. I wonder if maybe we're gonna get some kinda tragic ending for a character, since he's seeking a supernatural host with "something more" than the usual shift (like Scott's True Alpha power, or Theo's chimera, or the Hale full shift) and he (and host) end up locked away on the Other Side.

You know Anon, it’s funny you should say that, because the meta pack has talked alot about sacrifices, specifically regarding two charectors: Scott and Peter, and your theory makes a hell of alot of sense…

Now, before we continue, it’s important to note that Scott and Peter aren’t the ONLY ones who need, thematically, to make a sacrifice, but they are the primary two, we’ll talk about the others later

First things first- the sacrifice you’re talking about is perfect because it’s a *TRUE* sacrifice, as in: There’s no “coming back” from it, this isn’t a situation where a person dies and comes back to life, or loses their powers and regains them, this also isn’t a situation where they get something out of the sacrifice that isn’t purely selfless (IE: If Jackson sacrificed his kanima powers and gained a full shift because of it, that sacrifice was not purely selfless, he never wanted his kanima powers anyway AND he got a reward) but this? There’s no reward for this, there’s no step up on the ladder, and there’s no “Oh I didn’t need that anyway” moment, it’s just sacrifice for the greater good, plain and simple

Now onto Scott and Peter and why they could both be perfect choices for this

Firstly, they both physically fit the bill, you said it yourself Anon, Anuk-Ite is looking for something *MORE*, not only harkening back to the Dread Doctors in season five, but also to THEO*, remember, Theo didn’t just want ANY pack- he wanted a DARK pack, he wanted SCOTT’S pack, because everyone in Scott’s pack was something *more*, he didn’t just have some betas and a couple of humans, he had the makings of something unique, to quote:

“I came for the werecoyote- the one who’s first instinct is to kill, I came for the banshee- the girl surrounded by death, I came for the dark kitsune, the beta with anger issues, I came for Void Stiles, that’s the pack I want”

Theo wanted a unique pack, a DARK pack, and we know that he’s not just talking about the species involved, werecoyotes don’t seem to be killers by nature, this is something Theo says but remember that Malia’s instincts are only as intense as they are because she lived in the wild during her formative years, we saw another werecoyote tonight- Edgar- who didn’t seem very violent, we can’t assume all werecoyotes are this way and even if we could, most packs don’t have any, coyotes- as stated by the beastiary- don’t like werewolves, and they CERTAINLY don’t like Alphas, so you’re hard-pressed to find one in a pack, banshees are also considerably rare if Jennifer and Arya’s reactions to Lydia are anything to go by, these are women who are DEEPLY involved in the supernatural and have been for most of their lives but they treat Lydia like a rare find, Theo then specifies he wants the DARK kitsune, not just any kitsune, and the beta “with anger issues”, not just any beta, but one who’s specially geared for violence, and, ofcourse, finally, VOID Stiles, not Stiles the human, VOID Stiles (seriously how does even know what that is??????? The thing possessing Stiles was called a nogitsune, Void Stiles was a term only used in private, so..??) Already we see that Scott’s pack has something *more* than most just in general, but back to my point

Scott is a True Alpha, a top of the line rare breed in the werewolf community, one that even most born wolves have only heard about in legend, and Peter is an odd case, he was a demon Alpha- wich in it’s self is not necessarily common- who died and was brought back to life via a convoluted banshee ritual, he also was taken by the Wild Hunt and escaped, he clearly has SOMETHING going on even if there isn’t a clever catch-all term for it, you also mentioned yourself that Theo is a chimera- a successfull one- but there’s something else special about Theo: He’s literally been to hell and back

*Theo is our third candidate, but we’ll talk about him later

SO why do Scott and Peter need to make sacrifices?

For Scott, it’s completing the hero’s journey, for Peter, it’s redemption

Scott has been stuck in stasis for a wile now because there are certain parts of his story that he refuses to allow to move forward, certain challenges he refuses to take and certain trials he refuses to face, and the more he refuses, the bigger his “debt” builds, think about it this way:

You have to get from Point A to Point B and along the way you have to eat a certain amount of candy, every few miles a peice is presented to you, now wile you CAN turn down the peice initially, you WILL have to eat it eventually before getting to Point B, if you keep denying peices along the way, then instead of eating one peice every five miles- wich is reasonable enough- you’ll get to the end with thirty peices waiting on you and you can’t advance until you eat all of them

Scott is facing something of the same problem, wile he does eat SOME of his peices when they’re initially presented, he’s saving alot of them for later, and those peices are building and building and building… and the bigger the pile of uneaten candy gets, the bigger his stomachache is going to get when he has to swallow down all of it at once

You can see even in recent episodes that there are still things that harkin back to Season One Scott, and NOT in the charming nostalgic way, let me give you a prime example-

In Magic Bullet when Derek tries to show Scott what hunters will do by telling him what happened to his family, what the Argents did, Scott replies with “Well then- they had a reason”, to put this at it’s most blatant: Scott is telling an innocent person that there MUST have been a reason his ENTIRE FAMILY deserved to be burned alive, for .. what? Being werewolves? Scott didn’t know the Hales, as evidenced by the fact that Stiles had to fill him in on everything regarding their family, what did he know about them besides the fact that they were werewolves and related to Derek? Pretty much nothing, so why else would he say something so crass? I get that he wanted to defend the Argents, but this kind of exceeds “defending the Argents” and goes straight into “Blaming the Hales”, Scott could have offered several different explanations- “Maybe it was an accident”, “Maybe they told someone else”, “Even if it was ONE Argent that doesn’t mean it’s ALL Argents”, but to imply Derek’s family MUST have done something to deserve being burned alive? Really? Now in “Pressure Test”, you have Scott ACTIVELY TRYING to throw two kids to the hunters- KNOWING they’ll be murdered- just because their eyes are blue, he seems determined not to see them as innocent people anymore the moment their eyes turn, even before they confessed to killing hunters (wich they didn’t actually do, by the way, they said they chased them down and tormented them) Mind you, Scott knows for a fact that not all blue-eyed wolves are vicious murderers, Derek and Malia both have blue eyes, and although his relationship with Derek is rocky at best, he’s downright DATING Malia now, either he believes his girlfreind is evil or he knows that eye color doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a cold-blooded murderer, but he’s ready to believe these kids *DESERVE* to be killed without even knowing WHY they have blue eyes… just like he was ready to believe the Hales deserved to be burned alive just for being werewolves

This is one small example of Scott circling the drain, but it nods to the much larger problem that he still has a type of internalized specism*, he’s always very quick to side with humans over werewolves even when the werewolves have done nothing wrong and the humans have (IE: Pressure Test) and is quicker to believe in evil supernatural people vs evil human people, he believes werewolfism needs to be suppressed, not controlled (there’s a difference, and the way Scott trained and taught Liam vs the way Derek trained and taught his betas is a good show of that difference, not that I think Derek’s teachings were all that grand, in fact, they were pretty cringey in their own rights, but the endgoals were VASTLY different, Derek wanted his betas to be able to defend themselves and work WITH their new power to do it, Scott wanted Liam to work AGAINST his power via control to the point of suppression and never taught him anything about self-defense, only control) Scott’s hero-journey has always been about finding harmony with himself as a werewolf and he still refuses to do that, he picks and chooses what parts he wants to take of being a hero and what parts he wants to take of being an Alpha, being a werewolf, being *other*, etc etc, and has refused to accept that these things are all fulltime and lifelong things, until he accepts all of that he’ll keep going in circles, collecting candy to stockpile until he reaches the end of his journey, and when he does reach that end, the sacrifice he’ll have to make (the candy he’s collected along the way) will be enormous…

Now let’s talk about Peter, who needs redemption, throughout the series Peter has toed the line between straight up villain and antihero, and before people start screaming, you have to look at how the charectors themselves treat him, particuarly in seasons three, four, and six, wile seasons one and two presented Peter as a Big Bad- end of story- you start seeing as of season three that the charectors are adjusting to him and reluctantly acceping his presence, when planning to break into the bank vault he’s sitting right there in the open and no one is trying to hurt him or even expressing anger at him, in fact, the only aggression he gets is a mild nip from Stiles and Stiles nips at everybody, he’s just an aggressive person that way, but there they are in 3A actively working with him, wich happens as well during Visionary with Cora and Stiles and again when Lydia and Allison seek his help, during none of these occassions did anyone act like they needed to kill Peter, just give him a swat on the head for being an irritation, that’s antihero interaction, not villain interaction, in season four Peter is back to plotting against Scott but before that he’s part of the deadpool and his interactions with Derek, again, show hero -> antihero interaction, not hero -> villain, even the sheriff lets Peter go along his merry way after killing The Mute, Derek takes pleasure in burning Peter but, again, that’s classic hero -> antihero banter, then in season six you have Peter actively helping the kids and you have more hero/anti-hero; Peter wants to use an innocent person as a guinia pig against Stiles’ wishes but ultimately it’s to HELP Stiles and himself, not just because he wants to see the kid die, later on we see the reluctance of Melissa helping Peter but she DOES help him- even if it’s just to use him- and wile Malia constantly gripes about having anything to do with Peter, she does seem sincere when she wakes him up and seemed sincerely concerned about him here and there, plus the very fact that Scott didn’t reach into his back pocket and dial Eichen to come pick him up when it was all over was probably telling to a degree

To be clear, I don’t like Peter, and I don’t forgive him for anything he’s done, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a very clear line between villain and anti-hero and Peter has been riding it like a mechanical bull since day one

But back on topic

Peter is still straddling that line both with fans and in the narrative as much of his anti-hero behavior has been fairly selfish/self-gratifying (he works with Stiles at the train station because he wants to get out of there, he’s hesitant to directly help Stiles just out of the goodness of his heart but the fact that he DOES is what has him sitting on the line of an anti-hero) and what few selfless things he DOES do (helping Stiles in 6A) are pretty small peas compared to the bad things he’s done (he gave the kids Roscoe’s keys but in the same breath encouraged them all to leave, regardless of what happened to Stiles after, this is a relatively tiny act of kindness and when you stack it against murdering his neice- just to compare to ONE- it really doesn’t hold up well as “Redemption”) The only way for Peter to get off the line between villain and anti-hero is to make a sacrifice worthy enough of pardoning some of his crimes, something selfless, something that shows that he DOES have compassion and a human soul and, preferrably, that he regrets the mistakes he made in the past, Crowly from Supernatural is the perfect example of what we’re talking about here, he straddles the villain/anti-hero line HARD series-long because even as of season 12 he was still plotting behind the Winchesters’ backs for his own selfish reasons, but then, you know, he killed himself to save them, wich was a big sacrifice that pretty much atoned for his behavior that season (throughout the series he’s had other moments of redeeming himself for crap he’s done but I’ll leave it others as to if he was really fully redeemed or not)

Scott and Peter both HAVE to make a big sacrifice for their narratives to work and to come full-circle, it’s just a matter of what that sacrifice is, the most common theories have been Peter’s death and Scott giving up his Alpha powers- or even his werewolf powers entirely**, but this could be a good way to avert either, though, if you want my honest opinion, I’d find it much more likely to be Peter’s sacrifice than Scott’s, I don’t think Teen Wolf will have a bleak ending (especially with the cast all being very excited and positive about it) and if Scott did, in fact, end that way, it would be an INCREDIBLY bleak way to end the show, Peter, however, isn’t, you know, the main charector, or even a hero, this would be a bittersweet moment and a great nod of redemption for him, it would give the show realistic depth and angst without going over the top and making the ending bleak and depressing

Now because I’ve talked so much about Theo- here’s the thing

This entire season is being played as Theo’s redemption arc, showing him living out of his car a few episodes ago was Teen Wolf’s way of punching you as hard in the feels as fast as they could to make you more primed to wanting to redeem him, it’s looking like they’re trying to turn Theo into more of a reluctant hero than a true anti-hero though, so in my opinion, his redemption moment will probably be alot smaller and not involve his own death, probably a really bad injuery that he sustains wile protecting Liam or saving Scott, maybe explaining his backstory or even apologizing to Scott would work, Theo is the world’s biggest dick but in comparison to Peter he hasn’t really done anything *THAT* bad, he’s tortured alot of people but only actually murdered one, who just popped back to life anyway, and in the realm of Teen Wolf that all seems like the sorta thing that can be washed away with a good chest wound and a sincere apology….. unfortunately…. but, I could always be wrong, this could be an interesting fit for Theo, my only problem is that it would be too close to what already happened to him- he was sent to hell, being locked in another dimension for eternity is too similar to that and would feel like a bland rehash instead of narrative genius

You mentioned Derek, but he’s pretty safe in my book, he completed his hero’s journey already and atoned for the wrongs he’s done, he EVOLVED, wich is the most textual nod to completing the journey I’ve ever heard of, he found peace within himself and has already made the big sacrifice he needed to acheive harmony and hero status by dieing in season four- and he came out of it evolved, not only did he spring back to life, but he brought a fancy new gift with him too, but this is where Derek and Scott are really different, Derek has spent the entire series eating his peices of candy as they come to him, if he made a mistake/took a step back, it was a small one and he paid for it pretty much right away, he didn’t keep looping around the same points and never learning from them, so when it came time for his big sacrifice, it wasn’t actually all that big, he didn’t have too much candy built up from other learning points in the series so he was able to swallow it without a problem, and he came out of it stronger- he DID make the sacrifice with death, he WAS prepared to die, and he had been slowly losing his powers and becoming human during season four, he had been preparing to die all along and making peace with it, even more of a reason for his evolution to have been well-deserved

I think our candidates, if this does in fact happen, are really just Scott and Peter, with my bets being placed 99% on Peter

*On the topic of internalized specism, Teen Wolf’s strongest allegory is that of sexuality, wich is probably why Jeff did the “There’s no homophobia in this universe” thing***, you see queer people who have internalized homophobia quite often, just like women can have internalized misogyny and POC can have internalized racism, belonging to an Other doesn’t exclude you from Othering, but I would say that internalized homophobia is probably one of the more common examples, I was just saying in the meta chat earlier that the confrontation in the bathroom between Edgar and Spider Dude reminded me of the stories I’ve always heard about and seen with homophobic and closeted queer people following someone they were just attacking into a bathroom/closet/motel room/whatever and essentially pulling the “I’m not gay, I just want to have sex” card, that’s an example of internalized homophobia- an extreme one, mind you, there are much more common smaller cases such as following standards of heteronormativity in queer relationships- Scott often displays internalized specism this way- on the less extreme end, again- he can say “I’m a werewolf and I accept that”, and he can kiss other werewolves and feel kinda ok about it, and he can preach that werewolves are just like everyone else, but at the end of the day if a human goes “Ow that werewolf hurt me” Scott is going to turn around and punish the werewolf without any proof because they’re a werewolf, do you see what I’m saying? (I hope you do, that was long winded)

**On the topic of losing his werewolf powers entirely, this goes back to the allegory, some people have thrown around the idea of Scott’s ultimate sacrifice being a full loss of his werewolf powers because he’s always wanted to be normal, he’s always complained so much about them and tried to ignore them and tried to pretend he was a normal human, he’s always seen them as a curse (except when they’re helping him with lacrosse) so it’d be, in some ways, a bittersweet poetry if he had to give up those powers to save everyone and became the only human in the group, being othered all over again but in a much different way (this, ofcourse, partly would depend on magic!Stiles being a thing because otherwise the impact wouldn’t be there because they’d BOTH be outsiders again just like season one and nothing woudl have changed) The problem I have with this is that it really tears apart the allegory, a gay kid can’t just release his gayness into the ether and then go about his life as a straight person, if Scott did the werewolf equivolant it would destroy the message

***On the topic of homophobia not existing in the world of Teen Wolf, we see no homophobia, true, but bisexuality is treated rather weirdly, the idea of being attracted to more than one gender seems to take people by surprise (Stiles and Liam specifically) and this is especially noticeable when Caitlyn and Stiles have their scene at the rave, Stiles seems surprised and confused by the idea of Caitlyn liking both girls and boys and doesn’t quite roll along with it as easily as he always does when someone mentions being gay, I still think we’re going to get a scene about bisxeuality between Jackson and Stiles with Stiles acting in surprise that Jackson is bi and Jackson rolling his eyes about it, bisexuality seems to just be extremely uncommon in the Teen Wolf world, there are allegories for that too but… it’s five A.M. and this has gone on long enough ;)

#Teen Wolf

7 notes · View notes

tyrion4pm · 7 years

Text

This "Catspaw" theory is wrong (almost certainly)

To be clear I'm talking about my own theory here, not bad mouthing someone elses. Basically I saw some dots that COULD line up, but after looking around a bit I hadn't seen it before and in the very off chance it turns out to be true wanted to stake my claim on it. Sorry about it being a bit long winded or if it's already out there. It's a different take on the "Catspaw assassin". My theory is he wasn't a random hired killer. He wasn't hired by anyone. It had nothing to do with Brans fall, the weapon wasn't given to him, and not only wasn't Robert's dagger, but wasn't even a "dagger" (originally) So there's already a lot to unpack here before I say I it was Howland Reed, and that's why he's been (seemingly) absent in the story. He's been in it. Just very briefly before dying on Brans floor. So the first obvious problem is why didn't Ned or Catelyn recognize him. This is a broken tormented husk of Howland Reed who's been drinking himself to death for probably over a decade at this point. There was a reference to him being described by his daughter as "having been brave, strong, and smart in his youth". She's describing him like this in the past tense. Other than that his description is pretty much "small like all Crannogmen". The catspaw assassin is described as a small, dirty man in filthy brown clothing that smells of horses. Being small isn't much to go on obviously, but think of the difference in descriptions between when Robert Baratheon rebelled as a handsome young warrior, and what he had become by the time he died. He looked like if a giant bag of hairy laundry could get the booze sweats. He would have been unrecognizable to anyone who hadn't seen him since the end of the war, and that was after living the good life. Howland is said to have not left the neck since the war. Robert became king, Eddard became Warden of the North, and Howland went home to rule the swamp everyone has to troop through to go kill each other in places with dry ground. Although to be clear, I'm not saying it has anything to do with resentment of his position, but the burden of knowledge he's been carrying all these years. Only Ned Stark and Howland Reed survived the fight at the tower of joy. And they both then learned the entire bloody atrocity filled civil war that upended society as they knew it, was based on a lie. Even the men they had killed at the tower were protecting Neds sister, not keeping her captive. Ned swore to keep his sisters secret, so Howland had to keep it also. But I haven't gotten to the bad part yet. Jojen. "In his childhood Jojen nearly died of greywater fever. While he was near death, he was visited by a three-eyed crow that gave him the gift of greensight causing him to experience prophetic dreams known as greendreams." A lot of this theory is based on the darker take on the three eyed crow that a few people have mentioned before. 3eC is not Brynden Rivers anymore than the ironmen became Starks when they took over winterfell. When faceless men disguise themselves with a face they've taken they experience the deads emotions and memories and when Wargs stay in the mind of an animal too long they etc, you get the idea. (This part I actually do think is accurate) Brynden Rivers didn't become the three-eyed crow. The three-eyed crow warged into and took over Brynden Rivers. Rivers was already thought to be a powerful sorcerer and taking him over probably expanded the crows power. I'll try and hurry this up. Howland had watched Jojen grow up with the 3eyed crows "gifts" and was probably as aware of anything about the future that Jojen is, including when he'll have served his purpose and will die. Howlands past present and future are already a lot of weight to carry, and now he know it's time to send his children off to probably die so a trickster forest demon can move onto its next more powerful host, who the crow will groom until his powers are ready, then invade like a parasite. That host is the child of his friend Ned Stark. That's what he was being "merciful" by preventing. He may have sent his children, he may have believed it was the right thing to do, but he's been struggling and conflicted about everything he knows, and at some point the weight of it all caused his to snap. As for the "dagger", the idea is at some point Howland found his way to the 3eyed crows cave (or the children had) and found "Dark sister". It was built smaller and more slender than a typical sword, so the handle may have been about the right size, maybe a little on the large side but usable for a dagger. The silver he was carrying might have been to pay off the smith who was skilled enough to convert the Valyrian steel blade down to size. But when it came time to pay, something set and already spiraling Howland off, and there may be a carved up smith somewhere out there. Crannogmen use "guerilla tactics" and he wasn't going to be battling his way through a crowd. He was going to be quickly eliminating one target, whatever happened to him from there didn't matter. But he couldn't blend in walking around with a full length sword.

Why was it important to use that blade? Valyrian steel is good for monster killing. He may not have known if the crow was already in the kid, or what kind of magic things could be protecting the crows next vessel. Turns out a dire wolf was, which again was just awful luck for Howland. Howland was a great fighter in his prime, but not only was he long past that, but this was something he really didn't want to do. As hard as it was already going to be he runs into Catelyn. The boys mother and the wife of his closest friend during the war. But it's kill him or let him be taken over by a demon, so he's dead anyway and this way prevents the crow gaining more power and doing it within the Stark family. But still running into the kids mother is going to throw you off your game no matter what. He may have even spent the week around the castle seeing the life her and Ned had made with their family trying to work up the nerve to follow through, with either letting the crows plan happen, or putting an end to it, as they walked past him for days never so much as making eye contact with him. Unable to recognize him with what the years of drinking and stress had done to him. There's the problem with ownership of the blade already being established, but there's a lot of weird confusion about that. It's a Valyrian steel dagger. Anytime someone see's a Valyrian steel sword, which there are only like a couple hundred or so of in the known world, people freak out like the audience in old footage of a Beatles concert. They name them and pass them down for generations. But apparently that's just swords because the reactions to being asked about the dagger seems to be calling it "plain" which by the nature of what it is, it really can't be. But also most of the people asked never actually see it. The only person who has a clear answer about the dagger is Little finger, and of course he's lying. I think he just saw an opportunity to start a fire and jumped at it. He knew Catelyn was champing at the bit to put the assassination attempt on the Lannisters, and just gave her the answer he knew she was dying to hear. Putting himself in the story lets him be able to speak about the dagger with intimate familiarity so there's no chance it's a misidentification and also doesn't cause the kind of suspicion that just going "It's a Lannister knife, they did it!" would. Even though that's exactly what he's doing.

Varys see's it and says he doesn't know anything about it. Weapons are an important resource. Valyrian steel is incredibly rare and valuable and this one supposedly changed hands through a bet. Interactions like weapons and things of value being up for contention really should catch his attention. I don't think he's holding information back, I think this isn't the blade people think it is and he's really never seen it. When he sees Little finger make up a story about it, he knows he's lying but doesn't get involved and lets things play out. When Jamie points out the problem with Little fingers story all he actually confirms is Tyrion wouldn't bet against him. He has some vague idea about Robert having some dagger, but he never see's the blade he's being asked about. He's got sort of a memory, from a drunk party few years ago of something that kinda sounds like what they mean maybe, and everyone takes that as "Ok so now we know Robert actually had it." He's not confirming anything. He's answering like he's under the impression the blade is already known to have come from them and is scanning his memory to give as best an answer as he can, and a book later (I think that's right) Tywin says "Robert had left a hundred daggers in his armory, but that the only knife the king ever used was a hunting knife he received in his youth from Lord Arryn". This is to Tyrion and the Starks are out of position to do anything about it by that time so he has no reason to lie.

The Lannister brothers decide Joffery hired the assassin, which makes no sense. In the early stories we knew Joffery was bad, but as this point we know he was never patient, calculating or subtle. He was not going to wait a week for an outside peasant assassin to commit a "mercy killing". A Joffery plot would be more like having Clegane kick down the door and Joffery runs in and sets the bed on fire. As the guards rush in Joffery is swinging from the chandelier cackling like the wicked witch screaming "Hey look at that crippled kids I murdered!" And all this is if he hadn't spoiled his plan by telling everyone he was going to do it over and over again at dinner. Howlands wife Jyana has been running his affairs in his name for years while he's been in a downward spiral and continued to after his death, which she doesn't actually know happened. I can see why GRRM is taking so long to finish the new books. This was supposed to be about 2 paragraphs long. So I think I got everything. That's not Roberts knife, Joffery wasn't behind it and the 3 eyed crow is evil are all things I actually do think but other people have already talked about them with a lot more clarity. The assassin being Howland Reed and the dagger being Dark sister are possible and no more crazy than a lot of very popular theories, but I doubt it. It's more like a "What if..." idea than an actual theory.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #catspawdagger #got theories #howland reed

2 notes · View notes

dantediscoversfic · 7 years

Text

Chapter 17: Migration

Our yard had a big cedar elm whose branches brushed pretty close to one of my bedroom windows. I think that’s why I would often get birds hanging out on my windowsill. I liked waking up and seeing them there. We kept several bird-feeders around the yard and I liked figuring out which birds were the same ones I saw on my windowsill. I recorded my sightings and observations in a Field Notes journal. One year for Christmas my parents got me a ‘Birds of Texas’ poster with beautiful painted illustrations of common backyard birds. I loved their names: white-winged dove, pyrrhuloxia, canyon towhee, vesper sparrow, crissal thrasher, white-throated swift, red-winged blackbird, house finch, starling. Their names were like poems. I liked drawing birds, too. But not Texas birds, entirely made-up birds: the persimmon-tufted rocketbird, the tawny tailblaster, the water wawso.

The day that I would come to think of as Dead Bird Day began like any other day. The radio alarm woke me up. Stevie Nicks was throatily belting ‘The Edge of Seventeen’ and a grackle was tittering around my windowsill. I took those as good signs. I whistled to the bird and tapped on the window to say hello. I went downstairs, ate breakfast, and went to the pool to meet Ari. After we were done swimming we went back to my house. We sat on my front porch. My shoes were off and I was staring at my feet. Particularly, I was looking with mild disgust and fascination at all the little hairs on my toes that had suddenly sprung up, as if overnight, like Jack’s beanstalk. I wasn’t sure what I felt about them. The last thing I wanted was to end up with hairy and knobby Hobbit feet.

I looked up from my feet and saw that Ari was smiling at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I was just smiling,” he said. “Can’t a guy smile?”

“You’re not telling me the truth.” I’d been trying to work on his whole not-talking thing by calling him out on it (with limited success). Sometimes it worked. Other times he stayed as close-lipped as a clam.

“Okay,” he said. “I was smiling because you were looking at your feet.”

“That’s a funny thing to smile about.”

“It’s weird,” he said. “Who does that—looks at their feet? Except you.”

“It’s not a bad thing to study your own body,” I said. This topic—my body and the changes I’d been going through recently—had been popping up more and more to the forefront of my mind lately. I wanted to talk about it with someone, but as much as I loved my parents they were definitely out of the running and Ari got squeamish about that type of thing. I desperately wanted to know if he was feeling some of the same things I was feeling.

“That’s a really weird thing to say, too,” he said.

But then he’d answer like that and I knew the topic was not open for discussion.

“Whatever,” I said.

“Whatever,” he said.

I changed the subject before either of us could get a chance to get annoyed. “Do you like dogs, Ari?”

“I love dogs.”

“Me too. They don’t have to wear shoes.”

He laughed, his throaty surprised laugh. I loved making him laugh (either intentionally or unintentionally; it didn’t matter to me as long as I was able to chase the sadness out of his eyes).

“I’m going to ask my dad if he’ll get me a dog.” I’d been thinking about it a lot, and I thought I was ready to put Ringo’s memory to rest.

“What kind of dog do you want?”

“I don’t know. One that comes from the shelter. You know, one of those dogs that someone’s thrown away.”

“Yeah, but how will you know which one to pick? There’s a lot of dogs at the shelter. And they all want to be saved.”

“It’s because people are so mean. They throw dogs away like they’re trash. I hate that.”

Then, we heard a loud pffft noise and rustling and boys yelling across the street. There were three boys and two were holding BB guns. I looked up and saw the trail of smoke, then smelled it. One boy was pointing his gun at a tree. “We got one! We got one!” his voice echoed. I realized that they’d killed a bird and were aiming to kill another. And then something fierce and furious inside of me burst open.

I leapt from the porch and ran over to them before I even realized what I was doing. “Hey! Stop that! What the hell’s wrong with you?” I wanted to grab the gun from them but stuck my hand out instead. “Give me that gun.” They were younger and smaller than me, but harder. My heart was thrashing and my right calf muscles were shaky with involuntary spasms but I wasn’t going to let it show to these heartless assholes.

One of the boys sized me up and said, “My ass if I’m gonna give you my BB gun.”

“It’s against the law.”

With one part of my brain I was staring at the boys and trying to make sure they stopped what they were doing. The other part of my brain was trying to figure out if we could still save the bird they’d shot. Could my dad bring it to the vet? I saw its rigid form, its tiny upturned legs, the puncture in the middle of its beautiful white and brown markings and thought crazily Maybe there’s still a chance.

“Second amendment,” the boy said.

“Yeah, second amendment,” his idiotic crony repeated.

“The second amendment doesn’t apply to BB guns, you jerk. And besides, guns aren’t allowed on city property.”

“What are planning to do about it, you piece of shit?”

“I’m going to make you stop.”

“How?”

One of the boys took a step toward me and spit on the ground. My body was already coursing with adrenaline and anger but then I got a sudden stab of fear in my belly. They had guns. The logical side of my brain tried to assure myself that I couldn’t die from a BB gun bullet. But it would still hurt like hell if they shot me. Or kicked me or punched me. Or any combination of all three.

“By kicking your skinny little asses all the way to the Mexican border.”

Ari said that, not me. I turned my head and he was right there next to me. I hadn’t realized he’d crossed the street until that very second, that’s how fixated I’d been on stopping the bird killers.

Ari knew how to fight. I didn’t. I’d seen it that very first day I met him but it almost felt like I’d been witnessing a dream or an apparition of him since he had never showed me that other part of him since that day. But here was that other Ari, tough as nails and mean as hell. I could almost smell it on him, how willing he was to beat the crap out of these kids without a moment’s hesitation, the way you can smell a coming thunderstorm. He eyed them down hard. One of the boys raised his gun like he was about to shoot it at us.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, you little piece of dog shit,” Ari said in this new voice that was menacing and low and slow as molasses. And then like lightning he reached out and grabbed the gun right out of the boy’s hand. “You’re lucky I don’t shove this up your ass.”

He threw the gun on the ground. It made such a loud clattering noise that I winced, momentarily afraid that he’d accidentally caused it to fire.

The boys also flinched at the noise and the shock of what he’d just done. I thought for sure they’d jump us. But then the fight deflated out of them and they left, cussing us out under their breaths as they went.

We watched them walk away. Ari’s fists stayed clenched and his shoulders stayed hunched until they were well down the block. Ari and I looked at each other. I felt like the wind had just got knocked out of me.

“I didn’t know you liked to fight,” I said. Though this wasn’t entirely true. I knew he could hold his own. I didn’t know that a willingness to fight was hovering just below the surface, ready to bolt into violent action at a moment’s notice.

“I don’t really. Not really,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “You like to fight.”

“Maybe I do,” he said. “And I didn’t know you were a pacifist.”

“Maybe I’m not a pacifist. Maybe I just think you need a good reason to go around killing birds.” I looked at him. His jaw was still clenched and his breathing was a little heavy. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to hug him. Or maybe I wanted him to hug me. “You’re good at tossing around bad words, too.”

“Yeah, well, Dante, let’s not tell your mom.”

“We won’t tell yours either.”

He looked at me. “I have a theory about why moms are so strict.”

“It’s because they love us, Ari.”

“That’s part of it. The other part of it is that they want us to stay boys forever.”

“Yeah, I think that would make my mom happy—if I was a boy forever.”

I looked at the bird again. I knew it was dead this time. I don’t know why I thought a few minutes ago I’d be able to save it, like I was a saint or Jesus or God. I hated those boys who killed it. I hated how careless and callous they were about wiping out such a beautiful, harmless creature without so much as a second thought. And then leaving it there like just another piece of trash on the side of the road.

“I’ve never seen you that mad,” Ari said.

“I’ve never seen you that mad, either.”

Neither of us spoke. We both just looked at the bird. I felt for a second like the bird was fluttering inside my chest, banging its fragile body against my throat and wildly flapping its wings like it was trying to escape out of a cage. But then I realized I was just trying to keep myself from crying in front of Ari.

“It’s just a little sparrow,” I said. I felt so sad and small, so useless and weak. I felt the tears coming hot and fast down my cheeks. I turned my face away from Ari.

Boys don’t cry Boys don’t cry Boys don’t cry

I hated that. I hated how ashamed I was that I couldn’t stop crying. I walked back across the street and Ari followed me. He didn’t say anything. I threw my shoes at the ground as hard as I could. That made me feel a little bit better. I sat back down on the porch and wiped my eyes.

“Were you scared?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“I was.”

“So?”

So? What did it mean that I was scared and Ari wasn’t? That Ari could defend himself in a fight and I couldn’t? That I was crying and he wasn’t? I’d made up my mind a while ago that I didn’t want to be ashamed of who I was. I told myself that it’s ok to cry. Crying feels good. Crying helps ease the crushing feeling inside before it gets to be too much to bear. But however irrational and stupid it was, I still felt like I’d failed a test.

We didn’t talk for another few minutes. I was going through in my head everything I could remember about sparrows. Most types that live in Texas don’t migrate in the summer months. They stay here year-round. They mostly eat seeds and insects. There are at least 35 species of sparrow. I wondered if the bird they killed was a boy or girl. I didn’t know why I wondered that.

Ari broke the silence and asked, “Why do birds exist, anyway?”

“You don’t know?”

“I guess I don’t.”

“Birds exist to teach us things about the sky.”

“You believe that?”

“Yes.”

By studying birds, humans had figured out how to build airplanes. Now we could easily traverse the globe, pick up and move far away from our original homes. Families could scatter like seeds on the wind. I pictured in my head maps I’d seen of different migratory patterns of birds across North America: the Pacific Flyaway, Central Flyaway, Mississippi Flyaway, Atlantic Flyaway. Birds migrate to go in search of better nourishment and to increase their chance of survival. My parents left their families for probably similar reasons.

I thought: fly away home, as free as a bird, empty nest, as the crow flies, swan song, wild goose chase, night owl, ugly duckling, odd duck, chicken out, the early bird catches the worm, take under your wing, kill two birds with one stone.

I took a deep breath. “Will you help me bury the bird?” I asked.

“Sure.”

We got a shovel out of the garage. Ari picked up the bird with it and brought it over to my yard. We dug a hole under an oleander and buried the bird there.

I started crying again. This time, I was thinking of when we’d buried Ringo. I still missed him so much. The ache was raw and wide open. Maybe I wasn’t ready to ask for another dog just yet. Or maybe this meant I was ready. My brain was too full to think clearly.

I was also thinking about how beautiful the oleander flowers were and how that made me happy despite the sadness I still felt because of the bird. The blossoms were pink and showy and fragrant. I wanted to pluck one and put it behind my ear. But I couldn’t.

I was thinking how I’ll never fit in anywhere because I’m a migratory bird with no real home to return to.

We stared at the bird’s grave for a little while in silence.

“Thanks,” I said finally.

“Sure,” Ari said.

I was suddenly so tired. I wanted nothing more than to fall right asleep and wake up tomorrow morning to a bird trilling on my windowsill like nothing today had ever happened. But I knew that was as impossible as me bringing the sparrow back to life after the boys shot it.

“Hey,” Ari whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We’ll go swimming,” I said.

“Yeah, we’ll go swimming.”

I went inside. Neither of my parents were home, which was a bit unusual. I took a hot shower and then fell asleep.

When I woke up, my room was dark and I was confused. I saw that I’d only been asleep for a few hours, but I felt like I had been out cold for days. I felt better, though, so I went downstairs. My dad was finishing up making dinner. I hugged both my parents for a long time. I didn’t tell them about the bird but I didn’t need to.

That night, during dinner, my parents told me they had big news. My dad was in the process of final interviews for a visiting professor position in Chicago and we’d know in a week or so whether or not he’d gotten the job. The minute they told me, I burst into tears.

#ari and dante fic

6 notes · View notes